A Different Approach

Becoming a proper adult is one of the most difficult things for those from both affluent and penny-pinching households, with the utmost humbling step being admission of our limitations. After all, who likes to admit they’re been in error with their approach, especially when they’re been doing it that way with considerable success? The human ego at once shields us from the sense of despair they create and prevent us from ever learning from them, in some instances to the detriment of both them and those around them. If and when that time comes, the courage must be summoned to face up to their shortcomings, so they may begin discovering the way out of this mire. For me, that time has been long coming, and I’ve become ever cognizant that despite the things, friends and experiences my methods have garnered me over the years, they are not yet the habits of someone worthy of being regarded as a man, and should I seek to walk the many rows a man must walk before they can call him a man, my habits must be taken up to the next level.

I freely admit to being a spoiled slacker in many aspects of life, confident that my way would let me create the kind of life I desire. Although I’m still building funds to move out on my own, my methods have lead me to many wonderful people and created experiences shaping me down to my core, including my time as a tutor for AmeriCorps. With those successes, however, have come failures and shortcomings which still burn in me to this day, reminders of how much I dropped the ball and allowed sure shots to slip through my grasp. Yes, incidents like failing tests, alienating myself from those I call friend and losing things vital to my way of life have taught me much the value of good habits and being more understanding towards others and the world around me, but I’m certain that I have what it takes to build grand and continued success, in both tangible terms and in terms of emotional growth. In order to tap into that, however, my priorities must be rearranged so that things building towards a better tomorrow become reality and the constructive habits I have now can go from being acts I enact in order to slip through to being as natural as breathing.

Of course, to become a proper adult, one must be able to define what a proper adult is, since they aren’t all people who snub their nose at cartoons and riding on the swings(as most tend to associate with adulthood). In my estimation, a proper adult is sure of who they are, knows the path they walk and go beyond what needs to be done for both themselves and those they serve, along with the obvious financial stability, circle of supportive friends willing to challenge them and ability to understand the wants and needs of others with minimal need to ask. I would be a fool if think I could ever make this world function as I see fit, even if I had all the world’s wealth and power in my grasp. No, to reach places otherwise unreachable, I must be able to understand and work within the flow of what’s around me, both by my hand and with the aid of those willing to travel beside me. To me, life will always like a river-sometimes gentle and others violent-and I know few who’ve made the most of their journey along it by trying to work against its current. 

Video Game Plot Development

This is one of my old opinion pieces that I recently came upon, and thought it interesting enough to bring back to this blog. Please read and, if you feel the need to do so, comment.
I believe different mediums have different ways of telling stories, and with games, it should feel like your affecting how the story flows and goes; you shouldn't have to be placed on a set path that the writer has set up for a story. 'cause no matter how twisty it may be, no matter how realistic the dialogue may be, and no matter how complex and wrinkled the plot is, if you don't affect how it goes or how it progresses, its not gonna be a good game plot. 

Eternally Left Undone

When it comes to debilitating fear, few things generate more of it than death, one of them being speaking in public. Like speaking in public, death strips us down to our truth, bares it for all to see and leaves us uncertain of what will happen after the fact. Its inevitability only compounds the fear to the point of making avoiding it as long as we can highly desirable. Having lost someone close and seen its face far too often to count, the matter is never too far from my thoughts, never easy to face, no matter how I grow and mature. Naturally, the ‘I don’t wanna die!’ factor is present in this, but part of it comes from the fear of leaving things important to me forever undone, a fear I dread more than anything I could conceive.

     Even the healthiest and most well protected of us can be ended at any moment, leaving our creations and our legacy to those who will come after we depart. Perhaps I’m a fool for think these things at my age, but the thought of passing on without offering my experiences and knowledge to this world is all encompassing, leading me to lead a life of minimal regrets. Much of that is tied to my desire to bring clarity into the lives of others and making sure I communicate well and honestly, and to do that, I must make peace with not only death, but also the chance that I may not accomplish all I set out to before my time comes. As someone more studied than I once said, “When you die, your inbox will still be full”. I’m sure the more this dawns on me, the more I free myself to create things that endure the ages. 

     It’s true I won’t know what I’ll leave behind until I’m gone, but I would like my funeral to be filled with those I come across and helped bring clarity and understanding. Even if I could only do that for one person during my lifetime, I’d be able to leave this world in peace, knowing that one person was able to see the light enshrouded by darkness. Without this, we are prone to having the fear of death cripple us from leading a full life, a fate worse than death, itself. When I’m drawing into me my final breath, I don’t ever want my final words to be “I blew it”; I want to tell those beside me in my final hours that I gave my life to doing what I loved and did things I would be glad to have them pass on to the next generation. After all, it’s when we can live in peace with things left undone that we free ourselves to do the most our minds and bodies will allow.

Plain to See

They say honesty is the best policy, and that maxim is what I’ve adhered to in dealing with the world around me. Part of that honesty, however, involves maintaining secrets entrusted to me by many I’ve come across, which has led to me honing the skills, layering and storytelling ability demanded of crafting a believable lie. Crucial to that are minimizing the tells which reveal the lie for what it is and risk assessment of both sticking to the lie and coming clean when the pressure’s on, since the ‘lesser’ evil is the more desirable evil in the long run. With enough practice, it’s possible to have the truth hidden in plain sight, even if it stares them in the eye as they pass it by each day.  Lately, though, I’ve pondered in depth if that kind of skill is what I want to let define my success and my growth as a human being, given how corrosive it is to the bonds we all share.

I will freely admit guilt to much dishonesty towards family and friends, much of which, as of this writing, I plan to take with me into my final days. This is mostly to minimize needless chaos, but part of me feels as if I lack the skill to concisely express the truth of my heart with voice alone. This is surely due to lack of practice and the fact that I haven’t deemed myself worthy of the truth, the whole truth or nothing but the truth. I’m truly fortunate to have friends willing to show this to me, and I know because of my actions I must do all I can to earn that right and keep earning it, even if it’s as trying to build and easy to level as a house of cards. I can think of few things weaker and easier to undo than a relationship based on mistrusts and lies, and that’s what I never want to subject those I care for to.

Although I’m an open book about much of my life, I always keep in mind the risks people take when they make themselves vulnerable, as well as the implied trust that kind of act involves. Only when there’s an atmosphere free of deceit can people feel safe opening the locks to their life’s classified files for others to scrutinize. I know that whether I seek to be a great psychologist or a great friend, this is what I must create when I speak with others, and that starts with demonstrating a lack of ulterior motives. How can anyone feel comfortable enough to share their most sensitive info if they think those they speak to will expose or blackmail them, if not worse? Those feelings are why I refuse to let deception and falsehoods become the core of my interactions, for those who live by fooling others are always left to wonder just who’s playing them for a fool.

Facing the Inevitable

At the turn of the new millennium, people were worried that the computer systems couldn’t handle the change in years and simultaneously crash, sending the world into chaos. In 2012, it’s feared the sun will emit EMPs (Electro-Magnetic Pulses, if you need a refresher)across the globe that knock out all electricity, sending the world into chaos, along with bringing the end of civilization as we know it. At the root of all this is the fear of being plunged into a situation we have little control of, a fear of being lead to death. No matter what form it may take, something is reminding us about the impending end of our lives, forcing the core of our character to surface for all to see. While we cannot control the fact we will die, we can control how we react to it and let it dictate the path our lives take, as well as who it affects.

Fear of these sorts of things has fueled an endless amount of bad decisions in people’s lives, all in order to stave off the fear of the Grim Reaper’s cold grip, and its ability to take all we love and care for away from us. To live a full life with minimal to no regrets, this is the kind of fear we must shed, for this is the kind of fear which will eternally cripple us from reaching higher and taking the risks needed to make it reality. I’ve traveled countless miles, broken both arms and lost someone close to my heart on the path to shedding such emotions, and all of it has helped strengthen my ability to walk forward and view this world for what it is. Though I’m not where I wish to be just yet, I’m more than happy with my life, and know that all that I do will be what I leave behind for those that come after me. Every day I seek to leave behind something wonderful, giving them the courage to push ahead in the face of uncertainty and live a life they would be proud of, regardless of what may come to pass.

Conspiracy theories run the gamut of logic and moral pushing ideas threaded by circumstantial evidence, but all of them link back to the idea that we are in control of nothing in our lives and that our every move and thought is planned ahead for us. Ever since my life changed, I’ve learned to view this concept as complete and utter garbage that no one should condemn themselves to. Even if one of these turns out to be true, that doesn’t stop the individual from picking themselves up and rising against the string being pulled, using their own strength to create their own destiny. In my eyes, nothing is viler than allowing your life to be diluted by events that may or may not come to pass, the beauty and wonder that life presents to you flying by all the while. When my time comes, it’s my desire to enjoy it from my back porch, finishing off my best work yet while falling into slumber in a reclining office chair.

A Single Step

Part of being human is making mistakes, whether it’s stumbling as we learn how to walk or mixing up crucial dates and missing them altogether. That’s all a part of growing up, and anytime it happens, the stuff we’re made of is exposed for everyone to see, even that creepy guy in the corner no one talks to. After the fact, we always think about what we would’ve done differently if we had a little more sense or mentally whip ourselves for whatever it was we did. Until someone knows enough to bend the fabric of time to their will, we can’t undo the past, we can only learn from it and do what we can to make amends. Doing so involves developing the capacity to forgive, more specifically the capacity to forgive ourselves and allow ourselves to move forward.

My own life has been rife with errors in judgment, many of which I’ve found difficult to forgive myself for, like the day I allowed myself to miss a key test during my first semester at community college in order to help my mother’s friend. I know the best thing to do is seek the positive and laugh it off, but part of knows I should’ve been more firm, more aware and more certain of my aim. For countless years I placed the blame on my shoulders and did what I thought was needed to ensure it never repeated, even when it did. As much as I believe in making your own luck and taking hold of your own life, I’ve grown more cognizant of that which I cannot change, that which I must confront and demonstrate forgiveness. Naturally, something this important won’t come easy, but this act will surely shed some of the weight I bear so I can move further ahead to becoming a proper man.

As life has continued to show me, when you cannot or will not demonstrate forgiveness, it becomes a greater challenge to progress, as if you’re sticking your feet in detergent boxes and pouring more and more concrete in them as you walk. Yes, some things are hard to give that kind of leniency, more so when it removes something irreplaceable, but is carrying that kind of ire towards it worth rending ourselves unable to grow? To me, even with much of what I’ve poured my heart and soul into being ripped away, I don’t ever want the answer to be yes, nor should it be for anyone else. Harboring grudges only corrodes us from within and blinds us to the truth of a person’s being, only letting us see the person they were then, in their time of darkness. The humility and willing to understand others forgiveness demands is the rock that shatters the glass holding this image, falling away to reveal a path meant for us to walk; a path towards joy and inner peace, our joy and inner peace. 

Behind the Pen: First Crush

Part of being a writer, in my view, is being able to take your life experiences and those of the people pass theirs on to you and craft them into prose, ideally the kind you'd want to see in the magazines and headlines. To keep a personal record of some of the events that shaped my skills, I'll post any responses to questions I receive which I consider to be something people would like to see about who I am, and perhaps help others realize that, although their experiences are unique, there are others out there who've went through something similar and are willing to lend their hand to you in aid. To begin, here's my response to this question:

 Who was your first crush and what was it like?

Through the Open Window: A Manifesto for Approaching Language Study with an Open Mind

(This is a cleaned up version of a Manifesto I wrote for one of my English classes, the previous which got me a 98/100 from my very tough grading teacher, hopefully a sign of the paper's overall polish. Though it may rub you the wrong way at some points, please enjoy it and let it reveal my take on language study)

The language were raised with is shaped by grammar, colored by vocabulary & powered by culture, a word strongly tied to the stuffy and snooze-inducing aspects of our world-for example, the guy who turns his nose at those not into musicals or fine wines.

However, as culture can be manifested by a tea ceremony, so can it manifest through Causal Fridays & riding the bike trail to Border's with your friends every Saturday, all 3 a way of doing things cultivated through shared values & beliefs. When grammar, vocabulary & culture work in sync, our thoughts gain life & let us interact with the world how we want to, even if we've never seen it before.

You may be wondering how this relates to learning a language, and to that I say this: In understanding this you not only uncover the key to learning a language, but the key to learning it as your language.

Deft Honesty

As kids, we're told that honesty is the best policy and that lying does no one any good. However, because they don't want to scare us off, they often don't tell the while tale behind these maxims, in this instance, that honesty can place an enormous strain on relationships and that the blow up from being caught in a lie can lead to losing everything you've worked so hard to achieve. I know these realities well, having incorporated sincerity into my daily interactions and doing less than sincere deeds in my past. There is much for me to learn about being more deft in my honesty and how I state my intent, and I'm equally certain that my approach will create the kind of life I seek. This is doubtless because few things destabilize a relationship's foundation more than deceit masking true intent.

When people close to me became wolves in sheep's clothing, I became much more hesitant to place my faith in other; to this day I'm weary of accepting aid from other, the possibility of them using the act as a tool of manipulation never far from my thought. That kind of mistrust is all encompassing, leaking into all aspects of how we approach people for the first time, and is a feeling I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. For this reason, I always seek to let those I see as friends in on what I intend to do, no matter how off putting it may turn out to be. My lack of wording skill has alienated me from a few friends, that I won't deny, but even with that, my choice of lifestyle has given me a life with little regret. White lies can help to create harmony and encouragement, but what use is creating that kind of environment when the truth can bring it down as easily as a house of cards?

I recognize the dangers inherent in the truth, especially those which have cost people their livelihoods, if not their lives. That said, I can't really see the value of trying to cover it up, since it only adds to the impact of the truth when it finally comes out. Exceptions to this surely exist, but to me, no matter how painful or devisive it is, those you have even a modicum of respect for deserve to know the truth about what you seek; to think it's better for them never to know is to insult and devalue them as human beings. If there's anything I'll learn more about being honest, it's that a little bit of sugar helps the medicine go down. Perhaps this is the key to reducing the possibility of involuntarily isolation

Crossed Wires

I read a children's book on a girl coming to America from China and her troubles learning English(which even one an award, back in the eighties). While the book itself felt greatly patronizing, it did get me thinking about what it's like to leave your old life behind to live in a new country, which I wrote of before, if I remember correctly(I'll post it up as soon as I can find it in my physical archives), but never from the view from someone who's living with the fact in the country. Those thoughts inspired this poem, which I eventually hope to turn into either a children's book or a comic of some sort. At any rate, give it a read and let me know what you think.


On the first day of 1st grade,
My teacher called on me
I could answer her perfectly
'Cause answers were all I knew

When that metal hawk left Japan
A carryon carried my life
But one thing just wouldn't fit
That one thing was Chie



She spoke in ways I understood,
sharing her tales and cookies
She spurred me on and made me strong,
Like no one else ever could


In fact no one else ever did
Try and put things in my reach
Even other kids with their colorful words
the kind schools never dare teach


In this school I was the zebra
Among a pack of giraffes
It was as if I had no mouth
Until Ms. Duvall gave me one


She tutored me when school was done
And showed me utmost care
With her, my English became my pallate
To paint energy in motion


She had me saying hi, hey and hello
To all I met in Torrance
She helped me grow more and more
My joy with her grew more and more


In time I only had one thing left
And that was try to make friends
But practicing English with my peers
Unlocked the shackles restraining my fears


"You sound like a FOB!
Your mom taking our jobs?
Me love you long time
Just go with your own kind"


Shattered-my desire for friends
Silenced-my passion for English
Scrapped-my love of school time
Sullied-my faith in others


The stir of words went up in smoke
Adrift above the recess ground
I watched from atop the Jungle Gym
A world now oceans apart


And so, for, the hands of time
Lead me to who I once was
But as I walked, I found a note,
It's tongue of the home I left behind


"I know you're angry, I know you're hurt
But silence isn't the answer
How can they know what's in your heart
If you won't let anyone hear it?"


At first, it left me quite perplexed
Who could know the tongue of my home?
But then it hit me who studied it
And that was Ms. Duvall


The day after I read that note
It stayed within my jean's pocket
It's message lit something deep inside
Which I felt as I sat down for lunch


Beside me was a girl in plaid
Who stirred her chocolate pudding
I lifted my eyes and flashed a smile
Extending to her, my hand


Since then, we've grown to be BFFs
Sharing life's many grand spendors
Should Ms. Duvall Ever come across this
Thanks for everything, Linda

A Letter to the Boy I Was in 10th Grade

A while ago I picked up the book What I Know Now: Letter to My Younger Self, and was intrigued by the concept of writing a letter to the person you were before you gained all you have about this world and what it contains. It fermented for many moons until, after looking forward at the path I will travel to becoming more of a man, something within me said the time was right to start crafting it. I know my path is not like those who've come before me or those who will come after, but it is my ambition to see my thoughts reach those who may need to hear it, even if I never realize it has reach them. This in mind, here is a relay to the ignorant, irritating little wuss I was back in the 10th grade, when my view of Japan was through the lens of Japanese animation and I had little grasp on just who I was and who I wanted to become.

The Theory Behind Cultural Identity

This is the introductory speech I gave with my group concerning Cultural Identity, so the listener would have a good idea of what it is and how much is encompassed in it. I would hope I didn't choke too hard when I presented it to the class-on an unrelated note, I learned how to use PowerPoint by the seat of my pants as we scrambled to get everything polished up for the persentation. This is something that, as a student of both the Japanese and English language, I would want to pass on to my students. Anyways, here it is, in all it's glory, and if you have anything you wanna say, comment away.

Want It All Back

There comes a time in everyone's life where it feels like all the forces in this world are working against you and you alone, and mine came on the day my bike was stolen. On that day, someone targeted my precious vehicle to be taken, leaving the other, unlocked bike untouched as the family slept and forcing me to use the 4 wheeled scooter I left behind in my youth. Pushing myself on the rocky terrains as the gales buffeted my every move caused all the frustrations I've held for all this time to unite as one white hot flash of rage. After a toss of my scooter and copious cursing, this is what I shouted to the heavens(more or less): Take my bike, take my computer, take my hands, I refuse to relent! In that moment I realized what it means to sacrifice and struggle to bring a dream into reality.

I am quite fortunate to have many dilligent, hard working people in my inner circle, and they remind me of the advantages I have that I'm not using to their utmost, such as being able to bypass many trials and tribulations simply by being born a citizen. Perhaps it was this relative ease that's made it hard to look past all I don't have or can't do and recognize the things within my reach, however minimal they may be, in my view. Whenever the situation shifted, I always sought out ways to adapt to it and rarely how to change it, mainly because I didn't even think I had the means to change it in a meaningful manner, even when I did. It's often the case that we don't feel an urge to change the way things are until a certain catalyst enters our lives, and I'm no different. When I discovered creative writing for the first time, I knew then and there I want it to be a part of my life; when my beloved perished doing the mountain road drifting she so loved, it inspired me to take chances in living the kind of life I desire, even if that means taking the ultimate chance; all through the day I lost my bike, I became familiar with this idiom: the more willing you are to let go of things you see as key to you now, the more you free yourself to change your world and make a better atmopshere for the things and people you cherish.

I learned this well the first time I was unable to use my PC, incidentally putting many of those I saw as close friends beyond my reach. Losing that revealed what losing my bike brought to light: I relied on both to ease my burden and make me comfortably umb to circumstances, with the loss of both triggering a drastic change in outlook. In yelling those words into the cutting night air, it dawned on me that regardless of reactions to events, time nor life cease their progree, and if you choose to do nothing, they'll leave you behind just the same. If there's anything this time has done for me, it's thrown a a barrel of fuel on the fire of my desire to take hold of the life I seek I know this may mean giving up a few of the things I love, but if it means crafting a better place for them to live and thrive, so be it.

Blind Date

This is a short I wrote way back when, around the time I entered a dark place in my love, in terms of romantic involvement. Since I felt the message I wanted to send in those days got lost due to my own emotional quagmire and distinctly stilted views on women seeking men in those days, I took the editing knife to it to let the emotional impact better shine forth. This actually came to be one of those emotionally charged editing sessions where I had to face some of the darkness I thought I left behind for good, and in the end, I was better for facing up to it. I would hope this reflects in the final product, and is something you can appreciate. Without further delay, here is a moment in time from the life of people seeking love and somebody real

One Last Push

There are few feelings more infurating than giving it all you have and still falling short of your goals, a feeling I've stared square in the face more tha once.  It never gets any easier to deal with the inferiority and dejection failure brings, no matter hard much you learn or how much you grow. You're left with no other choice, but to stand before all the things that've dragged you to this point and either let them pass or let them ruin you. Each encounter has taken me to the razor edge of my limits, and each time I've taken a vital piece of wisdom with me into my daily life. That wisdom gave me the strength to keep moving and push myself past my own threshold.

Have you ever heard someone say "You're pretty good, but you still need a little somethin', somethin'"? That little somethin' somethin' has been an ideal sought after for millenia, and to achieve this, each of the multitude who've pursued this have had to face aspects of themselves they've suppressed all their lives. For me this meant owning up to my habits and the fact that they aren't the kind that'll make my dreams reality. My lackadasical methodology has shown me many of life's wonders over the years, but the time when even my most hardcore preparations left me missing the mark by miles are forever seared onto my consciousness, reminders of my failure and my fuel to take me higher. It is the joy of victory and agony of defeat that paints our mental images, and these emotions are what spur me to examine and re-examine myself so I can discover where I need to make one last push towards my goals.

When we reach the peak of one mountain, a higher one always awaits in the distance, daring us to scale it, and it's in this endless cycle that personal growth is enabled from womb to tomb. In some cases the process goes on long after that, when things they create get invovled, such as skateboarding and the guitar. It can grow tiring after a while, but no other way of life can hold a candle to what I chose. I love who I am and what I've become, and know much more is waiting for me for see and uncover. Whatever it may end up being, there's no doubt the journey to it will give me the tools I need to forge my own truth and craft something that serves others long after my time comes.

Loss and Appreciation

One of life’s greatest ironies is that we can never completely realize the value something or someone has until it’s taken from us, only to be observed from a distance. This is something never lost on me, having lost everything from treasured media to loved ones over the course of my life, as well as witnessing others lose those precious things. Through my losses I’ve come to see it’s not the things themselves that build the value we link to it, but the experiences we build with them, the experiences that stay with us in times of prosperity and poverty. These are the things which guide us in our decisions and help us realize what truly has meaning in a world throwing everything at us at once, the same things I’ve come to appreciate the more I grow into my skin. With these experiences, our daily interactions become that much richer and rewarding, letting us see just how much more is there for us, if we build upon our past and let it lay a path to our future.

A Seat at the Dinner Table

It’s said one of the most rapidly fading traditions from the Nuclear Family days of America is the act of sitting around the family table and collectively enjoying a meal, shooting the breeze about their day. It’s in these moments the fabric of the family is laid bare, as well as how each person regards themselves within the family unit, and in turn within society. With my own family, I can remember few times we’ve ever sat down together for such a thing, and none of those times have I ever felt I belonged, causing me to reevaluate what it means to be part of something, as well as the concept of unity. In any group I’m a part of, I am strongly against leaving anyone out of the equation or leading them to conclude they have no use, which is a large part of what continues to spur me on in my journey to be a better leader and team member. In my studies and experiences around these fields there are two key questions I feel build on what makes a team grow and prosper: what does each person ask of their team, and what do they ask of themselves?

As a matter of principle I set the bar high for both myself and those I choose to work with, leading to as much disappointment as amazement at the things accomplished, which is to say quite a lot. Though they’ve brought great things to me over the years, these standards have also weeded out many I’ve met in my life, including several very interesting people I’ve come upon, but didn’t bother to get contact info from due to differing mindsets. The question of just how easily I could give up my standards and let myself become more like the people I’ve grown apart from, drifting along life’s shores is a constant presence in my life, especially in times of crises when such a choice is right within my grasp. The desire to belong is a force with illogical influence over us, growing more so as global society becomes more connected, but even with that close enough to smell at some points, but even with all I’ve sacrificed to live up to my principles, it’s not possible for me to fathom letting them go. It would be utterly hypocritical for me to scrutinize the world I live in and those I work with so harshly for setting such base level standards that they still fail to live up to, and live as if having standards is worth as much as dirt.

I still have a ways to go to reach the kind of heights I wish to reach, but even if it keeps me away from a good chunk of humanity, the vast amount of improvement just reaching for it has given me hardens my commitment to this lifestyle. The few moments of ‘This is incredible’ I’ve gotten from those I work with have become worth much more than any amount of ‘Oh, that’s neat’ I might get if I ask anything less of them. This may create much struggle for me and those I work with, but I know that struggle will make us better and allow us to appreciate the time and effort we put into a project once it’s done. If anything, the journey having high standards creates is the thing sticking with us for much longer than the end product, especially when the process begins over again and we proceed enriched by our travels. Who knows, maybe someday I might to share some of my tales from the road around the dinner table with the people I grow close to, hopefully serving some tasty BBQ.

Stepping Back from the Brink

Regardless of any advancement mankind makes in raising the standard of living, one thing always present in day to day lives is stress, whether it’s emotional or situational. It’s a constant dance to ensure it doesn’t overtake us and influence our decisions, but even the best dancers slip up now and then, and that’s when the true test of a person’s grit begins. Do they rise up and push on, or let their issues drag them deeper into the dark spiral, eventually taking them down to the absolute end of everything they knew, more commonly known as throwing your life away as if it was line paper smudged with grease stains. I faced this decision more than a few times in my life, one involving a knife and another involving a bridge, and each time I couldn’t muster the mindset that ending my life would benefit those close to me somehow, and couldn’t do it. Because of that, I was able to contemplate just what kind of meaning my life had, and where I drew that worth from.

In my compulsory school days, I achieved much academically as well as underwent life changing incidents, yet even when I told them in plain English, nobody I knew seemed to notice, chipping away at where I saw myself within society. As time passed I looked to wherever I could to find some emotional validation, particularly the internet, and it was only when I was cut off from those sources did I face my reality and see the side of me I longed tried to escape. It took much inner soul searching and much deeper wounds inflicted by those close to me, but in time I came to see if no one else could or would make me feel I had meaning in this world, I had to give it to myself and make it myself. At times I still wonder what worth I have to the world and what I can do to better my station, but when a complete stranger tells me my 3 best traits are being knowledgeable, outgoing and confident, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come in improving how I take life on, as well as how much farther I have to go to rise higher. I know whenever I hold a straight edge razor in my hand the only prevalent thought is “I wonder if this can still cut out coupons cleanly?”

Those I’ve befriended over the years have done much to give me a shoulder to cry on and let me see my issues from a more objective perspective, and for that I’m grateful, but even back then I knew they couldn’t always be there when I needed them, and that I had to build my own strength if I expected to survive the kind of life I wish to lead. Seeing others with that same fire to find a way to make their desires reality, while occasionally leading me to those I hold philosophical agreements with, renews my own fire and reminds me of why I choose to live on and push ahead, regardless of what they come to pass.   Every day I ponder the meaning of weeding out the weak and the strong, and every day I’m reminded of what that means to me: that those who are strong will do whatever it needed to live a life full of worthwhile acts and words, and that those who are weak will freely let the world rob them of every chance available to them to excel, if it means they can live on autopilot and let the reins slip completely from their grip. I admit I still do a bit of whining about the disadvantages I currently face, but I know well how capable I am of creating the kinds of resources I need to climb up, as well as what it means to sacrifice comfort for something better in this world, something worth committing to paper. It’s with this realization I’m able to see what the next step in growth is:  assuming the risks my path entails and learn to ride life’s ebb and flow. 

G.U.E.C.

This is a descriptive short I whipped up for my English class, and I have to say I'm quite proud of it. Down the line, I'm even considering making some logos and sketches to help better realize it. I did get a bit carried away during the writing process, though, so it runs a bit longer than many of my other works. If you wanna see the tale of a boy and his affront to scientific logic, take a look after the jump. As always, feel free to leave any thoughts you may have on it

Open Ears

Often we grow up hearing others give us their advice on how things should be done, whether or not we need it at the time. Though laced with good intent, being spoken at in such a manner carves a divide between those involved, growing greater as it continues on. In time, the distance can grow enough to weaken and ultimately destroy any relationships involved, regardless of how many years they have between them. On the other side of the coin, years of damage can be swiftly repaired when this ends, and understanding begins. From my travels I’ve both witnessed and experienced the impact someone feels when they feel they are understood for who they are, not who the person perceives them to be.

I freely admit I’m guilty of going on at length about something with those I wish to help or hold a modicum of respect for. Despite that, I’ve given countless people my ear over the years, and the kinds of things I hear people reveal to me never cease to amaze. Likewise, whenever I speak of more personal things with someone I trust, I can always feel an amazing weight lifting from my shoulders, as well as gaining a greater insight into what my next step should be. Not only do these things fuel my desire to keep my ears (and subsequently my heart) open to others, but also seeing the kind of deep, long lasting hurt having heartfelt words fall on deaf ears can inflict on a person. I can think of nothing more disheartening and painful than the isolation of going unheard can bring, no matter the speaker’s intent.

One key thing I take away whenever I meet someone is the importance of open, honest communication. Of course there are always social norms and other things about the person to keep in mind, but in my view speaking with others without any agenda or unseen intent produces the kind of conversation that deepens the bond two people share and lets both parties know one matters to the other.  Whether it’s psychiatrist to patient or friend to friend, it’s this level of trust that dictates how each regards the other and how the relationship blossoms, something long forgotten yet utterly important in this age of instant connections.  One sentence rooted in allowing the other person’s view to be considered and dealt with on a level that dignifies them holds much more significance than a 2 hour speech full of helpful information, but treats the listener no better than we’d regard simpletons. Silver tongues can get you far and wide, especially now where it can be seen in global capacities, but even those hold the foundation that those being spoken to are granted that base level of respect, understanding and consideration.