As I walked to work this morning, I was considering perception. Our perception of reality governs the way we see the world. But what if we were seeing it all wrong?
What if we were seeing things in reverse?
Or more, what if the way we see things—in the chronology we believe to be adamant—is only temporary? Or superfluous? Take a step out of your consciousness, and just consider…
Billions of years ago, in a single flash, the universe exploded. The Big Bang. And the universe has been exploding outward ever since. What if one day, the universe could expand no more, and—like a balloon that can get no larger, and the air now being let out—it seeks to return to its original form. And everything starts going back to the way it was.
Those who had died, would return to living and age backward. Oxygen would and sun rays would not damage the body, as the energy would flow out and return to its source. We would take waste back into our bodies and our body would reinvigorate the animals parts and the plant pieces, and we would unchew it, and spit the food back onto our plates where it would be returned to the farm and the animals would be put back together and they would live again, and like us, be born of death and age in backwards until they rejoin their mother’s womb and shrink until they divide into an egg and their father’s seed.
All life would age backwards, in reverse, and return to the one source from which we all came.
There is a kind of beauty in it that makes me wish this were the way in which we lived. In reverse.
In that, rather than all of us aging towards death and the eventual fleeing of the spirit (or the energy that creates that spirit) from the body, we would return to our mothers who would in turn return to hers and so on, until we all became part of something greater than ourselves. Instead, we move “forward” towards being alone.
Or perhaps not.
This world is bigger than any of us can quite understand. And I suspect we know less about the true dynamics and physics of our universe than we suspect. We are but the most infantile children in the scope of knowledge of this place… Makes ya feel small, don’t it? Hehe.
-Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
the perfect shower
Today might be the most beautiful morning I can remember here in New York in some time. Nothing has happened out of the ordinary, as I woke, showered, and came to work. But the weather outside—it is crisp and cool. The air soft. No, it isn’t the weather itself, but the way it touches on my memory.
This morning, as I showered, the bathroom door open, and all the house windows wide, the cool air from outside wafted in, moving the mist of the shower in settle random ways that only nature can achieve. As the hot water beat down on me, and the cool air dances across my naked flesh, memories stirred of San Francisco.
What was it? Eight years back I think. Staying at Brett’s house just off of Castro. His shower was hot, and there was a small window, cracked, where the cool air from outside came in, mingling with the hot water pouring down from overhead. What is it about the mixing of the elements that tantalizes? The air cool, the water warm, the porcelain beneath your feet solid. It’s perfect. Grounded and airy. My mind drifts.
San Fran isn’t the only time those elements have met and washed over me. I know of other memories, but they hesitate to come forward, instead letting me just relish in it. I know it might seem silly to write a journal entry about a good shower, but I can’t help but think it’s this kind of small stuff I haven’t been appreciating in my life.
That, and when memories stretch you backward across time, I can’t help but feel they do so for a reason. Eight years ago, I was such a different person, with such different perspectives, and still naïve in more ways that I can count. It was a lifetime ago. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m a survivor. The pangs I suffer now can draw a parallel with the pains I suffered then, and be reminded, that I will get through this. These little trials are what life is made up of. They are part and parcel.
Last night, dinner with my best bud Victor at The Elephant in the East Village, Feist was playing overhead. And something in the song and in the air and in the meal hit me like a subtle wave of the lightest bricks. It was just one of those moments when you can’t wait to meet that new person who will make you believe in love again, even if only for a second. To go on that first date and reach out and touch fingertips or rub knees under the table. To get those texts and phone calls that you just can’t wait to answer. To be in bed with that person for the first time and be nervous be you actually care what’s going to happen and how nice it will be to wake up next to them in the morning. To have all that—HOPE. And it’s just amazing, the way it made me feel. So alive and scared (but not in the anxious way) and happy and giddy and horny and ready to just explode into a million little stars in the night sky.
And yeah, even though other stuff sucks right now, and things are confusing, and I worry that I’ll be alone when I’m eighty, it’s nice to have a reminder from the past that all this stuff is so transitory in the first place anyways. The only thing we can trust in is change and movement. Time doesn’t wait for us to make up our minds. So it’s better just to swim along with the current then try to stop and figure it out. And right now, I shouldn’t stop and try to sort it all out. I should just pick up my feet and let the river carry me where it will. And if something good comes along, I’ll plant my feet for a minute and just take it all in, and remember how great it is to have a nice hot shower in the cooling fall weather. The only thing that matters is now: this present moment.
-r
This morning, as I showered, the bathroom door open, and all the house windows wide, the cool air from outside wafted in, moving the mist of the shower in settle random ways that only nature can achieve. As the hot water beat down on me, and the cool air dances across my naked flesh, memories stirred of San Francisco.
What was it? Eight years back I think. Staying at Brett’s house just off of Castro. His shower was hot, and there was a small window, cracked, where the cool air from outside came in, mingling with the hot water pouring down from overhead. What is it about the mixing of the elements that tantalizes? The air cool, the water warm, the porcelain beneath your feet solid. It’s perfect. Grounded and airy. My mind drifts.
San Fran isn’t the only time those elements have met and washed over me. I know of other memories, but they hesitate to come forward, instead letting me just relish in it. I know it might seem silly to write a journal entry about a good shower, but I can’t help but think it’s this kind of small stuff I haven’t been appreciating in my life.
That, and when memories stretch you backward across time, I can’t help but feel they do so for a reason. Eight years ago, I was such a different person, with such different perspectives, and still naïve in more ways that I can count. It was a lifetime ago. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m a survivor. The pangs I suffer now can draw a parallel with the pains I suffered then, and be reminded, that I will get through this. These little trials are what life is made up of. They are part and parcel.
Last night, dinner with my best bud Victor at The Elephant in the East Village, Feist was playing overhead. And something in the song and in the air and in the meal hit me like a subtle wave of the lightest bricks. It was just one of those moments when you can’t wait to meet that new person who will make you believe in love again, even if only for a second. To go on that first date and reach out and touch fingertips or rub knees under the table. To get those texts and phone calls that you just can’t wait to answer. To be in bed with that person for the first time and be nervous be you actually care what’s going to happen and how nice it will be to wake up next to them in the morning. To have all that—HOPE. And it’s just amazing, the way it made me feel. So alive and scared (but not in the anxious way) and happy and giddy and horny and ready to just explode into a million little stars in the night sky.
And yeah, even though other stuff sucks right now, and things are confusing, and I worry that I’ll be alone when I’m eighty, it’s nice to have a reminder from the past that all this stuff is so transitory in the first place anyways. The only thing we can trust in is change and movement. Time doesn’t wait for us to make up our minds. So it’s better just to swim along with the current then try to stop and figure it out. And right now, I shouldn’t stop and try to sort it all out. I should just pick up my feet and let the river carry me where it will. And if something good comes along, I’ll plant my feet for a minute and just take it all in, and remember how great it is to have a nice hot shower in the cooling fall weather. The only thing that matters is now: this present moment.
-r
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Breaking up is hard to do...
So it's been two months since my relationship ended.
At first i was angry. REAL angry. 98% of my friends have never seen me in that place. and i hope none of you do. it's not pretty. have a shady, abusive, Texas trailer trash upbringing, and then you may understand. (throw in the fact that i've got 25% latino in me, and watch out.)
Then i just got sad. i fell apart. i crumbled. i cried. i lost almost 20 pounds from being unable to eat. i couldn't even sleep most nights. and when i did i woke up feeling as though i were being stabbed in the mornings... just pangs of anxiety in my digestive system. not fun.
Then i got okay with it. ...i mean, as okay as you can be when the man you love more than anything no longer feels the same.
For those wondering what happened... refer to life. life offers us no guarantees and no promises. i know that when i met Stephen, i had no faith in love. i didn't believe any two people could really make it work, as i have never met a couple with the staying power to make it work. i was okay with the idea that i'd stay single my whole life, and just have great friends, a great career, and lots of sex with strangers. and i was okay with that. but then i learned another way. and for that i am grateful... even though i am NOT grateful for the acute and new misery i have discovered in the last two months.
Yes, it was pretty bad. worse than i let anyone know. but it turns out i was stronger than i thought. i think most people are, given the opportunity to find out. it isn't pleasant, but life can't always be so. and let's face it... after you're homeless for 3 months at age 18 after being disowned by your family for being gay... THAT is bad. losing the man i planned to spend the rest of my life with? that was just horribly uncomfortable.
So today, I've been dragging a bit. Not depressed, just a down...
Last night I signed on to BMB and there he was, signed up as well... And stupidly I clicked on his profile (I have managed to stay away from his facebook profile for almost 2 weeks, which i consider a massive accomplishment) and looked at his pics, which made me smile (what can i say, i've never been attracted to anyone the way i was to him...), and then i began to tear up. Which of course then prompted me to dream of him. it's funny how intense the little things become...
This morning i woke up, and before even clearing my bed, I had a hard time breathing. i just missed the way things were before everything went downhill. I wasn't mad, or angry, or even jealous of his new guy, I was just... Clear. My mind has been dancing around ideas all morning while working, but eventually I walked to get lunch and there it was. A stream of thoughts about this kind of stuff...
I realized that when people split up, it is natural to get angry and sad and upset and so on. But that anger? They aren't mad at the other person, not really. How can you hate someone who you love that much? They aren't mad, they're simply scared of being alone.
A relationship let's people believe they will never be alone again, that whatever else happens, they will always have someone... through sickness and health, through layoffs and promotions, through deaths and births...you want to believe that this one person can be a CONSTANT in a world where there is no such thing. and when that illusion is crushed or taken away, we look to blame someone. And our former partners become easy targets...
I don't know. I may be completely wrong or just rambling from my own thoughts and feelings... i mean every person is unique, and all our body and brain chemistries are so different... but i think this is a universal. this isn't my head talking, this is my heart speaking.
Sure, I still have days where i am beyond pissed. or envious. or crushed. but i dont want him back. not after he hurt me like this. so why am i still mad?
I feel like my anger isn't solid... It's just a reaction. but the reaction isn't about him, or us, it's about me. Being scared. Being terrified of being alone. Of dying alone. that fear came before him. it's only fair then that it outlasted him. That fear is my companion.
I have been abandoned and rejected by my parents, by lovers, by friends. i have seen enough death in my life to last a dozen other lifetimes. but so it goes. it sucks. but life does not offer its condolences. it says, "okay, you have fallen. time to get up and get moving again. you can rest when you're dead."
Anyways, while I'm having this moment of clarity, I wanted to share. maybe it'll help someone else. maybe not. either way, if you're going through this, know you aren't alone. millions of people go through break ups every year, and the surprising news? no one dies from it. we don't. it hurts, but it won't kill us.
For me? I realize..i'm not mad. I'm just scared.
That's all I got. Peace to all of you. -r
At first i was angry. REAL angry. 98% of my friends have never seen me in that place. and i hope none of you do. it's not pretty. have a shady, abusive, Texas trailer trash upbringing, and then you may understand. (throw in the fact that i've got 25% latino in me, and watch out.)
Then i just got sad. i fell apart. i crumbled. i cried. i lost almost 20 pounds from being unable to eat. i couldn't even sleep most nights. and when i did i woke up feeling as though i were being stabbed in the mornings... just pangs of anxiety in my digestive system. not fun.
Then i got okay with it. ...i mean, as okay as you can be when the man you love more than anything no longer feels the same.
For those wondering what happened... refer to life. life offers us no guarantees and no promises. i know that when i met Stephen, i had no faith in love. i didn't believe any two people could really make it work, as i have never met a couple with the staying power to make it work. i was okay with the idea that i'd stay single my whole life, and just have great friends, a great career, and lots of sex with strangers. and i was okay with that. but then i learned another way. and for that i am grateful... even though i am NOT grateful for the acute and new misery i have discovered in the last two months.
Yes, it was pretty bad. worse than i let anyone know. but it turns out i was stronger than i thought. i think most people are, given the opportunity to find out. it isn't pleasant, but life can't always be so. and let's face it... after you're homeless for 3 months at age 18 after being disowned by your family for being gay... THAT is bad. losing the man i planned to spend the rest of my life with? that was just horribly uncomfortable.
So today, I've been dragging a bit. Not depressed, just a down...
Last night I signed on to BMB and there he was, signed up as well... And stupidly I clicked on his profile (I have managed to stay away from his facebook profile for almost 2 weeks, which i consider a massive accomplishment) and looked at his pics, which made me smile (what can i say, i've never been attracted to anyone the way i was to him...), and then i began to tear up. Which of course then prompted me to dream of him. it's funny how intense the little things become...
This morning i woke up, and before even clearing my bed, I had a hard time breathing. i just missed the way things were before everything went downhill. I wasn't mad, or angry, or even jealous of his new guy, I was just... Clear. My mind has been dancing around ideas all morning while working, but eventually I walked to get lunch and there it was. A stream of thoughts about this kind of stuff...
I realized that when people split up, it is natural to get angry and sad and upset and so on. But that anger? They aren't mad at the other person, not really. How can you hate someone who you love that much? They aren't mad, they're simply scared of being alone.
A relationship let's people believe they will never be alone again, that whatever else happens, they will always have someone... through sickness and health, through layoffs and promotions, through deaths and births...you want to believe that this one person can be a CONSTANT in a world where there is no such thing. and when that illusion is crushed or taken away, we look to blame someone. And our former partners become easy targets...
I don't know. I may be completely wrong or just rambling from my own thoughts and feelings... i mean every person is unique, and all our body and brain chemistries are so different... but i think this is a universal. this isn't my head talking, this is my heart speaking.
Sure, I still have days where i am beyond pissed. or envious. or crushed. but i dont want him back. not after he hurt me like this. so why am i still mad?
I feel like my anger isn't solid... It's just a reaction. but the reaction isn't about him, or us, it's about me. Being scared. Being terrified of being alone. Of dying alone. that fear came before him. it's only fair then that it outlasted him. That fear is my companion.
I have been abandoned and rejected by my parents, by lovers, by friends. i have seen enough death in my life to last a dozen other lifetimes. but so it goes. it sucks. but life does not offer its condolences. it says, "okay, you have fallen. time to get up and get moving again. you can rest when you're dead."
Anyways, while I'm having this moment of clarity, I wanted to share. maybe it'll help someone else. maybe not. either way, if you're going through this, know you aren't alone. millions of people go through break ups every year, and the surprising news? no one dies from it. we don't. it hurts, but it won't kill us.
For me? I realize..i'm not mad. I'm just scared.
That's all I got. Peace to all of you. -r
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
30 Things About Rex You May or May Not Know
Yeah, yeah, yeah, everyone else is doing "25 things about me", but I'm doing 30 cuz i'm 30. So there.
1.) i was born in Texas and yes, i lived in a trailer. as they say, you can take the boy out of the texas trailer park, but you can't take the Texas trailer park out of the boy.
2.) i have wanted to be a writer as long as i can remember. novels, comic books, movies, whatever. it's the whole reason i moved to New York City. and i finally got published this year. more to come...
3.) life has never really been easy for me. but since i moved to New York, i have found a kind of happiness i never expected to know.
4.) i was homeless once. homeless, as in living out of my truck, one time sleeping on the street, and often showering at the YMCA in New Orleans. it was only for 3 months, but it sucked. my dad had kicked me out for being gay, and i had no other family at the time. for that reason, i will never let a friend go without a warm meal or a place to sleep.
5.) i like comics books, bad sci-fi movies, good sci-fi movies, art history, and furry boys in jock straps. yum.
6.) did i mention i like furry boys in jock straps?
7.) i am 30. it's weird. with the things that came early in life, i never expected to make it past 18. then i never expected to make it past 25. now i'm 30. every day is a little surreal when i think about. life is good.
8.) my friends are my world. more than my gene donors (read: family), my friends are the thick and thin of it. they matter to me so much i can be a bit of a monster when i think one of them is mistreated. it drives my bf nuts.
9.) i drive my bf nuts rather often. sometimes in the cutesy "my bf is a monkey and makes me laugh" way, sometimes in the annoying "my bf is a jealous moody latino" way. but he puts up with me. and for that i am grateful.
10.) i have a bf (you may have heard of him: Stephen James Xanthos, he's well-bearded and apparently quite popular with bears between the ages of 18 and 104). i love him like i've never loved anyone else. i love him in a way i didn't think i was capable of. and i love him deeply and truly and passionately, and sometimes angrily. but i love him, and am still very much IN love with him. love is a weird creature, i've come to learn. it brings out the best and worst in me, but i have found myself striving to be a better person for stephen AND for myself. it's kind of a great feeling.
11.) because of stephen and a beautiful black pug named The Smoo, i have come to love dogs so much that i have exchanged my want for children for a want of dogs. and i want them now. I WANT PUPPIES.
12.) i love music. the way it makes me feel. the feelings and emotions they can invoke and instill in the breath of a single chorus. what's weird? i never pay attention to band names, song titles, or even lyrics. i literally ONLY let the music move me without giving it any more than surface thought. i often have fave songs for years before i sit down and read the lyrics and say, "ew. that's what that song is about??"
13.) i like tv more than i should, but i am proud to say i have cut way back. tv watching is the closest thing i've ever had to addiction...
14.) ...tv watching is the closest thing i've ever had to addiction. FACT. i tried smoking, but didn't like the way it made my clothes and fingers smell. and i've never been one for drugs, and i'm still not a champion drinker like my bf. i used to claim i was a sex addict, but the truth was (and is) i just enjoy sex... but there are times when i can't be bothered...thus, NOT an addict.
15.) i have renewed my love of video games. i have an xbox360, and there's nothing more fun than having friends come over and watch me play. ur, i mean, come and play WITH me.
16.) i don't like watching other people play video games. or sports. or anything of that genre. i am not for watching, i am for doing. except when it comes to some things, and then my anxiety takes hold and says, "I don't think so."
17.) i made it to the final round of Real World 10: Back to New York. I was cut last minute for the guy, also from austin, who had cancer. they said, and i quote, "You seem to have dealt with a lot of your problems, and become a more balanced person. You have told us about so much tragedy, but you haven't cried. Not once. Do you think you could try and cry for the camera?" my answer was no. but i'm in new york any way. :)
18.) i love to read. especially novels. i just rediscovered my love of 300 pages of story. all i did as a kid was read. when i moved to NYC i slowed down for lack of time in trying to get my writing career off the ground. but i'm back to reading. i wish every one had an 8th day in the week just to read. my faves go from All Souls Rising (about the Haitian rebellion) to Belle de Jour's Secret Diary of a Call Girl to Alice in Wonderland. ugh, give me a good book any day of the week.
19.) i find i never have enough time. to write. to read. to hit the gym. to hang with friends. to hang with stephen. to play with puppies. to breath. to relax. to sleep. it can be overwhelming at time. life seems to be going by way too fast. but i can't dwell on that...
20.) i can't dwell on the fast pace of life, because there is only one thing that terrifies me: death. it isn't the dying part (that part i'm rather curious about). it's what comes after. be there an afterlife or be there nothing, when i try to wrap my head around it, i shut down. i go into a dark place. i get depressed. and for a long time it was a kind of obsession for me. thus my useless degree in religion. but yeah, i am terrified of dying. the first part of my life was not fun. it was abuse and abandonment and people dying on me. my life now is nothing like that... but i dont want to lose any more friends. i want us all to be together forever and happy. not possible, but a boy can dream right?
21.) i have a tendency to get dark when i'm being honest with myself. i hope #20 didn't bring you down. apologies. i'll think of something brighter for #22.
22.) did i mention i like furry boys in jock straps? :)
23.) i love the sun. so much in fact i think i might be solar-powered. i'm serious.
24.) i have 4 tattoos but plan on getting more ASAP. i want my back done, and a sleeve.
25.) i have a niece and nephew who i think are the most amazing two people in the world. one day i hope to adopt them. or at the very least, move them to NYC when they're ready for college. i'd like to think i'd be a good dad.
26.) shit, now what i'm passed 25, my mind has stopped... but i started this so i have to finish it... which is another thing about me. i'm kinda OCD in that anything i am going to do, i am going to give it 105%, and i'm going to finish it. the only things this doesn't apply to is bad movies, dusting, and people who take too long to finish off.
27.) i am pumped about our new president, and have high hopes that humanity will turn the world around before we destroy it.
28.) i HATE people who litter. seriously, if i had a gun with free reign, it would be bad.
29.) i'd like to be god for a day. i have a lot of ideas on how to make the world a better place. (i think in a former life i was a dictator.)
30.) it's take me a long time, but i finally worked something out: LIFE IS GOOD. so take that in, put it in your pipe and smoke it, or just put it in your pocket for a rainy day. seriously, life is good and you should do your best to enjoy it. you only get this one, so take advantage.
thanks for reading. xoxo, gossip girl
1.) i was born in Texas and yes, i lived in a trailer. as they say, you can take the boy out of the texas trailer park, but you can't take the Texas trailer park out of the boy.
2.) i have wanted to be a writer as long as i can remember. novels, comic books, movies, whatever. it's the whole reason i moved to New York City. and i finally got published this year. more to come...
3.) life has never really been easy for me. but since i moved to New York, i have found a kind of happiness i never expected to know.
4.) i was homeless once. homeless, as in living out of my truck, one time sleeping on the street, and often showering at the YMCA in New Orleans. it was only for 3 months, but it sucked. my dad had kicked me out for being gay, and i had no other family at the time. for that reason, i will never let a friend go without a warm meal or a place to sleep.
5.) i like comics books, bad sci-fi movies, good sci-fi movies, art history, and furry boys in jock straps. yum.
6.) did i mention i like furry boys in jock straps?
7.) i am 30. it's weird. with the things that came early in life, i never expected to make it past 18. then i never expected to make it past 25. now i'm 30. every day is a little surreal when i think about. life is good.
8.) my friends are my world. more than my gene donors (read: family), my friends are the thick and thin of it. they matter to me so much i can be a bit of a monster when i think one of them is mistreated. it drives my bf nuts.
9.) i drive my bf nuts rather often. sometimes in the cutesy "my bf is a monkey and makes me laugh" way, sometimes in the annoying "my bf is a jealous moody latino" way. but he puts up with me. and for that i am grateful.
10.) i have a bf (you may have heard of him: Stephen James Xanthos, he's well-bearded and apparently quite popular with bears between the ages of 18 and 104). i love him like i've never loved anyone else. i love him in a way i didn't think i was capable of. and i love him deeply and truly and passionately, and sometimes angrily. but i love him, and am still very much IN love with him. love is a weird creature, i've come to learn. it brings out the best and worst in me, but i have found myself striving to be a better person for stephen AND for myself. it's kind of a great feeling.
11.) because of stephen and a beautiful black pug named The Smoo, i have come to love dogs so much that i have exchanged my want for children for a want of dogs. and i want them now. I WANT PUPPIES.
12.) i love music. the way it makes me feel. the feelings and emotions they can invoke and instill in the breath of a single chorus. what's weird? i never pay attention to band names, song titles, or even lyrics. i literally ONLY let the music move me without giving it any more than surface thought. i often have fave songs for years before i sit down and read the lyrics and say, "ew. that's what that song is about??"
13.) i like tv more than i should, but i am proud to say i have cut way back. tv watching is the closest thing i've ever had to addiction...
14.) ...tv watching is the closest thing i've ever had to addiction. FACT. i tried smoking, but didn't like the way it made my clothes and fingers smell. and i've never been one for drugs, and i'm still not a champion drinker like my bf. i used to claim i was a sex addict, but the truth was (and is) i just enjoy sex... but there are times when i can't be bothered...thus, NOT an addict.
15.) i have renewed my love of video games. i have an xbox360, and there's nothing more fun than having friends come over and watch me play. ur, i mean, come and play WITH me.
16.) i don't like watching other people play video games. or sports. or anything of that genre. i am not for watching, i am for doing. except when it comes to some things, and then my anxiety takes hold and says, "I don't think so."
17.) i made it to the final round of Real World 10: Back to New York. I was cut last minute for the guy, also from austin, who had cancer. they said, and i quote, "You seem to have dealt with a lot of your problems, and become a more balanced person. You have told us about so much tragedy, but you haven't cried. Not once. Do you think you could try and cry for the camera?" my answer was no. but i'm in new york any way. :)
18.) i love to read. especially novels. i just rediscovered my love of 300 pages of story. all i did as a kid was read. when i moved to NYC i slowed down for lack of time in trying to get my writing career off the ground. but i'm back to reading. i wish every one had an 8th day in the week just to read. my faves go from All Souls Rising (about the Haitian rebellion) to Belle de Jour's Secret Diary of a Call Girl to Alice in Wonderland. ugh, give me a good book any day of the week.
19.) i find i never have enough time. to write. to read. to hit the gym. to hang with friends. to hang with stephen. to play with puppies. to breath. to relax. to sleep. it can be overwhelming at time. life seems to be going by way too fast. but i can't dwell on that...
20.) i can't dwell on the fast pace of life, because there is only one thing that terrifies me: death. it isn't the dying part (that part i'm rather curious about). it's what comes after. be there an afterlife or be there nothing, when i try to wrap my head around it, i shut down. i go into a dark place. i get depressed. and for a long time it was a kind of obsession for me. thus my useless degree in religion. but yeah, i am terrified of dying. the first part of my life was not fun. it was abuse and abandonment and people dying on me. my life now is nothing like that... but i dont want to lose any more friends. i want us all to be together forever and happy. not possible, but a boy can dream right?
21.) i have a tendency to get dark when i'm being honest with myself. i hope #20 didn't bring you down. apologies. i'll think of something brighter for #22.
22.) did i mention i like furry boys in jock straps? :)
23.) i love the sun. so much in fact i think i might be solar-powered. i'm serious.
24.) i have 4 tattoos but plan on getting more ASAP. i want my back done, and a sleeve.
25.) i have a niece and nephew who i think are the most amazing two people in the world. one day i hope to adopt them. or at the very least, move them to NYC when they're ready for college. i'd like to think i'd be a good dad.
26.) shit, now what i'm passed 25, my mind has stopped... but i started this so i have to finish it... which is another thing about me. i'm kinda OCD in that anything i am going to do, i am going to give it 105%, and i'm going to finish it. the only things this doesn't apply to is bad movies, dusting, and people who take too long to finish off.
27.) i am pumped about our new president, and have high hopes that humanity will turn the world around before we destroy it.
28.) i HATE people who litter. seriously, if i had a gun with free reign, it would be bad.
29.) i'd like to be god for a day. i have a lot of ideas on how to make the world a better place. (i think in a former life i was a dictator.)
30.) it's take me a long time, but i finally worked something out: LIFE IS GOOD. so take that in, put it in your pipe and smoke it, or just put it in your pocket for a rainy day. seriously, life is good and you should do your best to enjoy it. you only get this one, so take advantage.
thanks for reading. xoxo, gossip girl
Friday, November 21, 2008
Ashes to Ashes...
Time is flying. It feels like time is being pulled out from underneath my feet. It is here, and then it is gone. It makes my anxiety and myself look like a fool… I worry over things that are here and then gone. My anxiety attacks me in the moment over the moments to come, and once they do, they are here so quickly, and then they are behind me.
S.W. was a man that Stephen met on the internet. They chatted many times. Stephen thought he was hot, and once I saw his pictures, and so did I. He came to New York maybe six months back. Maybe eight, I don’t know. Stephen ran into him out and about on a Friday night, and S.W. was apparently trying to get into Stephen’s pants to the point of being obnoxious. But who doesn’t after a few drinks? ☺ The following Sunday at the Eagle Beer Blast, S.W. came up to me. He behaved the same. I tried to speak with him, but he was very much focused on the one thing. I declined his advances for spending more time with my friends, but i thought good for him. After all life, is short, and he knew what he wanted and didn’t mind putting himself out there to get it. It's a lesson a lot of people could stand to learn. He was handsome, and you could tell there was a kindness in his eyes, but there was also hurt. He wanted desperately for someone to love him for who he was. I hope he found that.
Stephen got a call from his S.W.’s brother yesterday. S.W. passed away from spinal meningitis. When my boyfriend called me on the phone to tell me, all of my memories mentioned above came flooding back to me clear as day as if they were happening simultaneously. To think that this person, this stranger who I spoke with was here, and is now gone. Somehow it’s more bearable to deal with celebrities and rock stars and former president’s wives…but when it is a stranger that I spoke with…it is somehow more real. Those in the news media are like Greek gods to most people. I feel like I live in Olympus living here in Manhattan. I am not one of the gods, but I see them on the streets and in stores and in restaurants. But still, S.W. is someone who I actually spoke with, who I gave a hug to as I left. He was someone real to me, who I embraced, if only for a moment. And now his body is in the ground.
It seems like such a foreign concept. This morning I woke up and all I could think about was him. What was he like? Had he been a happy child? What things went through his mind as he was about to take his last breath?
It is a slippery slope for me to even think on it. I have never been good with death, having lost so many as a child and then later as a teenager. I have never feared rejection, for at least that person lives on. It is abandonment that devours my core at time. The fear of my friends and loved ones leaving me. And yet my greater fear is what comes next, for it is so uncertain. I don’t fear hell, because at least there would be an awareness. But what if there is no awareness. What if Rex is no longer Rex. Then Stephen and all that we had is gone. Carsin and Caleb, my niece and my nephew, their laughter is gone. My friends vanish. All of this, all of these beautiful and terrible things that we live through and cry over and squander and embrace and fight for … it is all gone.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
It is hard to even try and wrap your head around. So I won’t.. I will try to go about my day, breathing in the world around me, and trying to smile despite the tears that hide just behind my eyes.
I didn’t know you S.W. , and for that, I apologize. But I hope that your life was good.
S.W. was a man that Stephen met on the internet. They chatted many times. Stephen thought he was hot, and once I saw his pictures, and so did I. He came to New York maybe six months back. Maybe eight, I don’t know. Stephen ran into him out and about on a Friday night, and S.W. was apparently trying to get into Stephen’s pants to the point of being obnoxious. But who doesn’t after a few drinks? ☺ The following Sunday at the Eagle Beer Blast, S.W. came up to me. He behaved the same. I tried to speak with him, but he was very much focused on the one thing. I declined his advances for spending more time with my friends, but i thought good for him. After all life, is short, and he knew what he wanted and didn’t mind putting himself out there to get it. It's a lesson a lot of people could stand to learn. He was handsome, and you could tell there was a kindness in his eyes, but there was also hurt. He wanted desperately for someone to love him for who he was. I hope he found that.
Stephen got a call from his S.W.’s brother yesterday. S.W. passed away from spinal meningitis. When my boyfriend called me on the phone to tell me, all of my memories mentioned above came flooding back to me clear as day as if they were happening simultaneously. To think that this person, this stranger who I spoke with was here, and is now gone. Somehow it’s more bearable to deal with celebrities and rock stars and former president’s wives…but when it is a stranger that I spoke with…it is somehow more real. Those in the news media are like Greek gods to most people. I feel like I live in Olympus living here in Manhattan. I am not one of the gods, but I see them on the streets and in stores and in restaurants. But still, S.W. is someone who I actually spoke with, who I gave a hug to as I left. He was someone real to me, who I embraced, if only for a moment. And now his body is in the ground.
It seems like such a foreign concept. This morning I woke up and all I could think about was him. What was he like? Had he been a happy child? What things went through his mind as he was about to take his last breath?
It is a slippery slope for me to even think on it. I have never been good with death, having lost so many as a child and then later as a teenager. I have never feared rejection, for at least that person lives on. It is abandonment that devours my core at time. The fear of my friends and loved ones leaving me. And yet my greater fear is what comes next, for it is so uncertain. I don’t fear hell, because at least there would be an awareness. But what if there is no awareness. What if Rex is no longer Rex. Then Stephen and all that we had is gone. Carsin and Caleb, my niece and my nephew, their laughter is gone. My friends vanish. All of this, all of these beautiful and terrible things that we live through and cry over and squander and embrace and fight for … it is all gone.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
It is hard to even try and wrap your head around. So I won’t.. I will try to go about my day, breathing in the world around me, and trying to smile despite the tears that hide just behind my eyes.
I didn’t know you S.W. , and for that, I apologize. But I hope that your life was good.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Yesterday & Tomorrow, A Rant
Remember myspace? Most of my peeps in NYC are long over it and have since moved on to the new, more user-friendly facebook, but most of my friends back home in Texas are still avid myspacers. So I just hopped on myspace, which I haven’t done in a few months. And lo and behold, a few people that have recently popped up along the periphery of my subconscious had either friend-requested me or sent me a message. Be it psychic or simply synchronistic, as I read the messages, old vibes washed over me. Thoughts of not what it, but what could have been. What if I had stayed in Austin, or moved to a small town? What if I had opted to travel the world and not concern myself with my next paycheck or taxes as I once had planned? What if I ended up with a married to a woman and had 3 kids? Hehe. That is doubtful, but with this life, there are no guarantees.
As a kid I dreamed of a shiny jetpack future. Spaceships traveling to resorts on the moon, hover skateboards, personal flying rocket backpacks, tiny credit-card sized computers that guided you through everything you need… (okay, so iPhones are close on that last one). I could give you a total rundown of my expectations but neither of us have the time to write or read that much. Let’s suffice it to say, that this is not what I had envisioned. This is more of what I had hoped for, but then again i grew up on Star Wars. Sure, there are huge TV screens in Time Square, but where are the eco-friendly hover-cabs? I don’t know. I honestly expected us to be further along. In technology, in taking care of our planet, in taking care of ourselves. I mean, we don’t even have cures for cancer or AIDS.
I feel like the process got retarded along the way. The wrong people were put in power by people who rather fuel cars with gas and oil than help the earth. The people who control the world of medicine rather treat the symptoms than cure the illness… otherwise they wouldn’t stay rich. We don’t have hover-shit because we’re too busy fighting amongst ourselves down here. It’s sad. We could have done so much, but instead our petty squabbles and greeds have destroyed the hopes we had as a kid. It makes me worry for the future.
No, not all this comes at looking at myspace pictures of friends I haven’t seen in the better part of a decade. But it is good to see their faces. Whether they’ve gained weight or cut their hair, or popped out a few kids, their eyes still have the same glint of life. Some are sadder, some are happier, some are simply more wise, but their eyes still echo familiar with me. Flipping from album to album and pic to pic, I think of all the decisions it took for me to get here instead of there. It’s a bit of a mind-fuck really. Everything starts to feel like a dream, reality fades its light, and your mind wanders to other possibilities of what you could have had.
The funny part? When I come back to this life, I’m glad I made the choices I made. The reality I built for myself is a good one. It’s no doubt easier for me to say it because I have this great life with a great boyfriend and a great home and a rad job and rad friends, etc. etc. etc. I’m sure if I was miserable, I’d be less pleased, but for now? I couldn’t be happier. Well… maybe if someone gave me some money…
As a kid I dreamed of a shiny jetpack future. Spaceships traveling to resorts on the moon, hover skateboards, personal flying rocket backpacks, tiny credit-card sized computers that guided you through everything you need… (okay, so iPhones are close on that last one). I could give you a total rundown of my expectations but neither of us have the time to write or read that much. Let’s suffice it to say, that this is not what I had envisioned. This is more of what I had hoped for, but then again i grew up on Star Wars. Sure, there are huge TV screens in Time Square, but where are the eco-friendly hover-cabs? I don’t know. I honestly expected us to be further along. In technology, in taking care of our planet, in taking care of ourselves. I mean, we don’t even have cures for cancer or AIDS.
I feel like the process got retarded along the way. The wrong people were put in power by people who rather fuel cars with gas and oil than help the earth. The people who control the world of medicine rather treat the symptoms than cure the illness… otherwise they wouldn’t stay rich. We don’t have hover-shit because we’re too busy fighting amongst ourselves down here. It’s sad. We could have done so much, but instead our petty squabbles and greeds have destroyed the hopes we had as a kid. It makes me worry for the future.
No, not all this comes at looking at myspace pictures of friends I haven’t seen in the better part of a decade. But it is good to see their faces. Whether they’ve gained weight or cut their hair, or popped out a few kids, their eyes still have the same glint of life. Some are sadder, some are happier, some are simply more wise, but their eyes still echo familiar with me. Flipping from album to album and pic to pic, I think of all the decisions it took for me to get here instead of there. It’s a bit of a mind-fuck really. Everything starts to feel like a dream, reality fades its light, and your mind wanders to other possibilities of what you could have had.
The funny part? When I come back to this life, I’m glad I made the choices I made. The reality I built for myself is a good one. It’s no doubt easier for me to say it because I have this great life with a great boyfriend and a great home and a rad job and rad friends, etc. etc. etc. I’m sure if I was miserable, I’d be less pleased, but for now? I couldn’t be happier. Well… maybe if someone gave me some money…
Monday, September 15, 2008
Anxiety, Ideas, & Home Sweet Home
I don’t get it. I’ve been working each day to calm my mind, to quiet my thoughts, to fight the voices in my head that try to keep me in fear. So why is it that come Friday night, I have a kind of small terror grow over me in the face of a relaxing weekend? What is it about next month’s cruise that instills in me a panic, not just for the flight, but for the following week?
As I walked to work today, under a beautiful blue and open sky, and a cool breeze stirring the leaves around me, I tried to sort it out. It isn’t the trip itself. It isn’t even the flight. It’s simply the idea of being caged by the circumstances surrounding my vacation.
The idea of being powerless taunts me. The idea of being out of my safety zone, and far from home, scratches at my mind like a terrible itch. It isn’t getting on the plane that offends me, it is the metaphor the plane has become: a symbol of something taking me away from what is only an idea of safety. Home.
Home. It is likely the most comforting word in the English language. It is where a person can be him or herself. Where one can drop all pretenses, and quit playing the games that we all play in the day-to-day rat race of our lives. It is where we feel safest. It is where we are surrounded by our belongings and those keepsakes of times before. We can be happy there. Or sad. Or angry. Whatever the case, we can do whatever and be whoever we want to be. There is no pressure.
But it is all an illusion. As with anything in life, anything can disappear in a moment. A home can be lit on fire, or washed away in a flood. A gale wind can drop from the sky, pick up your home, and toss it like a rag-doll. And these are just natural instances. My point being, no matter where you feel safe, an event can take away your idea. An idea is just that, it is a concept. An idea can be a thought, a conception, a notion. It can be an impression, an opinion, a plan of action, an intention, or even a groundless supposition or a fantasy. But it is a thing that exists solely within the mind. It is a result of mental understanding. But a mental understanding can be wrong. An idea can just as easily be false as it can be true.
The world at large once had an idea that the world was flat. And that was inaccurate. That was false, in the realm of facts. As children, many have an idea that Santa Claus brings them presents on Christmas. That is also false in the realm of facts. And let’s face it, we all have ideas floating around in our heads that we defend righteously…only to late discover that we were wrong. So why do we cling so vehemently to these things called ideas?
Perhaps it is simply ego. Perhaps it is an environmental trait we picked up as stubborn children attempting to match the stubborn nature of the adult world. Or perhaps it is a survival instinct we needed tens of thousands of years ago to survive in a harsher world. Maybe our predecessors needed to embrace that which they knew and believed. I don’t know that a single answer can be written. I do know that I struggle with anxiety. With fear. I have most of my life. But when I was younger, it seemed much easier to overcome. But now? Now it seems almost worse, despite my knowing how much I have survived.
Haha, listen to me talk. You would think I am having fear about going off to war. I am literally having fear about going on vacation! It is ridiculous.
And I know it is ridiculous. There are people without the money to go on vacation. There are people with too many responsibilities to pick up and adventure for eight days. But here I am, scared of my own shadow. Yes, right now, in this moment, I know I am a fool. What am I trying to hold on to? What is it that puts knots in my stomach in the middle of the night? It is like I am only half the keeper of my mind, and the other half is controlled by another. I hate it. Why can I not simply let go of these fears and move past them without a second thought?
…
I don’t know. But I’m working on it. Dispelling the illusion of safety is something I have done before. But apparently it is a lesson I need to relearn. I have fought my fears in the past, but they have an insistency to return. Now I am armed with the knowledge that I am a prisoner of my own ideas. You would think that would help me in some small way. But I am a creative, which cannot help matters. As I can build entire worlds of fiction for my characters and my novels, I can do the same with my own fears and anxieties, armoring them against my own defenses. If I were outside my own head, I would likely marvel at the complexities of my own mind. Instead, I’m just annoyed.
So I guess I just have to try and break down the barriers of ideas. Find a way to dispel the solidarity of the things I think I know, and instead uphold the truth: that ideas are just that. Ideas. There are facts in the physical world, but the anxieties I have are simply fears with no concrete standing. My anxieties are wisps of air in the reaches of my mind. But amazingly, they still manage to cause me pain and discomfort.
“When you arise in the morning, think of what a privilege it is to be alive: to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.”
- Marcus Aurelius
As I walked to work today, under a beautiful blue and open sky, and a cool breeze stirring the leaves around me, I tried to sort it out. It isn’t the trip itself. It isn’t even the flight. It’s simply the idea of being caged by the circumstances surrounding my vacation.
The idea of being powerless taunts me. The idea of being out of my safety zone, and far from home, scratches at my mind like a terrible itch. It isn’t getting on the plane that offends me, it is the metaphor the plane has become: a symbol of something taking me away from what is only an idea of safety. Home.
Home. It is likely the most comforting word in the English language. It is where a person can be him or herself. Where one can drop all pretenses, and quit playing the games that we all play in the day-to-day rat race of our lives. It is where we feel safest. It is where we are surrounded by our belongings and those keepsakes of times before. We can be happy there. Or sad. Or angry. Whatever the case, we can do whatever and be whoever we want to be. There is no pressure.
But it is all an illusion. As with anything in life, anything can disappear in a moment. A home can be lit on fire, or washed away in a flood. A gale wind can drop from the sky, pick up your home, and toss it like a rag-doll. And these are just natural instances. My point being, no matter where you feel safe, an event can take away your idea. An idea is just that, it is a concept. An idea can be a thought, a conception, a notion. It can be an impression, an opinion, a plan of action, an intention, or even a groundless supposition or a fantasy. But it is a thing that exists solely within the mind. It is a result of mental understanding. But a mental understanding can be wrong. An idea can just as easily be false as it can be true.
The world at large once had an idea that the world was flat. And that was inaccurate. That was false, in the realm of facts. As children, many have an idea that Santa Claus brings them presents on Christmas. That is also false in the realm of facts. And let’s face it, we all have ideas floating around in our heads that we defend righteously…only to late discover that we were wrong. So why do we cling so vehemently to these things called ideas?
Perhaps it is simply ego. Perhaps it is an environmental trait we picked up as stubborn children attempting to match the stubborn nature of the adult world. Or perhaps it is a survival instinct we needed tens of thousands of years ago to survive in a harsher world. Maybe our predecessors needed to embrace that which they knew and believed. I don’t know that a single answer can be written. I do know that I struggle with anxiety. With fear. I have most of my life. But when I was younger, it seemed much easier to overcome. But now? Now it seems almost worse, despite my knowing how much I have survived.
Haha, listen to me talk. You would think I am having fear about going off to war. I am literally having fear about going on vacation! It is ridiculous.
And I know it is ridiculous. There are people without the money to go on vacation. There are people with too many responsibilities to pick up and adventure for eight days. But here I am, scared of my own shadow. Yes, right now, in this moment, I know I am a fool. What am I trying to hold on to? What is it that puts knots in my stomach in the middle of the night? It is like I am only half the keeper of my mind, and the other half is controlled by another. I hate it. Why can I not simply let go of these fears and move past them without a second thought?
…
I don’t know. But I’m working on it. Dispelling the illusion of safety is something I have done before. But apparently it is a lesson I need to relearn. I have fought my fears in the past, but they have an insistency to return. Now I am armed with the knowledge that I am a prisoner of my own ideas. You would think that would help me in some small way. But I am a creative, which cannot help matters. As I can build entire worlds of fiction for my characters and my novels, I can do the same with my own fears and anxieties, armoring them against my own defenses. If I were outside my own head, I would likely marvel at the complexities of my own mind. Instead, I’m just annoyed.
So I guess I just have to try and break down the barriers of ideas. Find a way to dispel the solidarity of the things I think I know, and instead uphold the truth: that ideas are just that. Ideas. There are facts in the physical world, but the anxieties I have are simply fears with no concrete standing. My anxieties are wisps of air in the reaches of my mind. But amazingly, they still manage to cause me pain and discomfort.
“When you arise in the morning, think of what a privilege it is to be alive: to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.”
- Marcus Aurelius
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