Thinking Sideways

THE MAN I PLAY IN

2011-08-22T12:13:00.000-07:00

This is Claude Pepper, the man I will be portraying in the new play Red Pepper. Look out it will be coming in October.

RED PEPPER - TAKE ONE

2011-08-20T12:09:00.000-07:00

(MY NEW BLOG IS thejplay.tumblr.com)

The play is called Red Pepper.

The playwright is Suzanne Willet.

The setting is a political backdrop of United States history.

One of the primary characters is former Florida senator, Claude Pepper.

And the actor playing Claude Pepper is Jared O’Roark.

Wait a freaking second!!! That’s me! What the…I am not an actor, well I’m not an actor first and foremost, at least, I’m a writer. Writing is my love. It’s my heart. I haven’t been on stage with characters that haven’t come out of my head in six years!! What the hell am I thinking? I’m scared out of my ever-loving mind!

“I’m scared,” that’s what I was thinking. When Suzanne called me up and asked me to play the role of Claude Pepper, my initial feeling was fear. I get scared when I don’t know if I can do a good job. And I have to be honest, I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN DO A GOOD JOB!!!!

That’s why I agreed to do the play. I am 32 years old, and I am following the trend of the world…as the years pass, I don’t get any younger like I would like…I get older. Therefore, I decided that if I am to become any better of a human being, and grow like I would like, I am going to have to take on new challenges…

WHEN FEAR LOOKS AT ME IN THE FACE, I DON’T WANT TO RETREAT, I WANT TO CHARGE AHEAD!!! (Okay, except with rollercoasters, I don’t like metal deathtraps.)

I took the job because I love and believe in the power of theater so much. I believe that when it comes to the performing arts, theater is the most powerful and the most personal form of expression. Sure the actors on TV or movies are expressing themselves, but they don’t have to experience the audiences reaction live to the touch. Theater provides the audience the power to instantly show their feeling. Theater provides the actor the power to feel that appreciation (or sometimes, not-so) while they are performing.

I also accepted this job to say to myself that, “Jared, you are not going to get better as a person, if you don’t look fear in the face, and fight it back.”

I deal with teenagers (and adult teenagers) on almost a daily basis, and I always tell them that life is scary, and that you have to go after the things that you want. And you have to take risks, and you have to challenge yourself. I decided to put my foot where my mouth was, and practice what I preach. This is not going to be easy. It is going to be hard. I already see improvisation on the list, and a bit freaking out (as it puts actors in the most vulnerable position.) And it is going to be scary, but you know how the saying goes…

“We have nothing to fear but…” well you get the idea.

Breathe.

Walk forward.

Lion’s den.

BALD HEADS AND COLORING BOOKS

2011-01-30T06:50:00.001-08:00

"I'm hungry," I growl, as I usually do whenever my brain and stomach decide to be at odds with each other. A bear would beg to escape my mood without a morning dose of sustenance.

I decide at 10 o'clock (a disgustingly late time for me to eat breakfast, especially considering I arose at 6:30 in the a.m.) to go and get some food at the local Panera Bread (my personal hang-out and relaxing spot to get stuff done.)

I walk briskly in the front door (as I have a mission that must be accomplished to cure the monster growing in my stomach) passing a father and son on my right sitting at a table, clearly coloring or doing some other child-like activity. I approach the counter and order my not-so-surprising typical order of a regular sized drink and a Breakfast Power Sandwich. As a matter of fact, I don't have to order it. I walk up to the cashier and the order is basically recited to me before I even get to utter a word (a creature of habit, what can I say.)

I pass the father and son duo (still coloring) a second time as I go to the room I always go to in order to set up my laptop. I walk back by them as I go and fill up my drink (I was in a real true caffeine mode, and therefore I decide to get a real drink, a soda). I walk back by them as I go sit down. I continue my routine as my buzzer goes off to indicate that it is time to go and pick up my order. I rush by them again (are you seeing a pattern) as I head back to my table where my laptop is resting. I eat my sandwich, I drink my Diet Pepsi. I need a refill. I walk by them (are you getting dizzy?) as I go and refill my drink.

Something struck me - finally! - as I walked back to my laptop. I stopped, and I could see this father and son sitting by the door at the table, coloring. I noticed something I didn't notice before. The father was bald, which isn't what struck me, as I myself suffer from the tortures of male-pattern baldness. No, what struck me was the son, coloring - he was bald. This was not a bald that is buzzed. This is not a chosen baldness. This is a bald that indicates that no hair is able to grow in. The baldness of the boy's head glistens under the soft lighting in the restaurant. No this is a different kind of baldness, this is a baldness that you can just see comes with a story.

Your head has probably already completed the story that can be told just by a shiny bald head on a (possible) eight-year-old. This is clearly associated with cancer, and my heart suddenly goes out to the little child coloring.

However, I glance back over at the father for a second time and I notice his head. This man isn't balding, I know what it looks like when hair is falling out of your head because genetics have kicked in. There is a look to that kind of baldness, this man did not have it. This man clearly had a full head of hair just begging to grow into his scalp. That is when it hit me. I started putting the pieces of this puzzle together...

This man...no, this father, has shaved his head in honor of his son who is sitting like a child on the chair (propped up on his knees) coloring in the book. And a father, who is aping his son's fashion statement (well, at least making his son believe it is just a fashion statement) and coloring right along beside him.

My heart hurt for the boy sitting in the chair, but rejoiced for the moment that I almost walked past. I was so gung-ho on making sure that my needs were satisfied, that I almost skipped this picture. I almost trailblazed right past the visual beauty that was sitting right by the front door at Panera Bread.

My life has been enriched.

I think maybe from now on I should try to walk slower.

BAD POETRY

2011-01-04T05:27:00.000-08:00

I have been spending several days doing something that I never thought I would actually sit down to do - printing out all of the works I have ever written, and p uttingthem in chronological order. I never thought I would do it, because some of that earlier poetry is just so bad (okay and occasionally some of the modern stuff.) I mean there are forced rhymes, and fake emotions, and you can actually feel all the cover-up of my feelings pouring off the page. I mean I didn't want to put that all together in a self-made notebook that my friends could flip through. Why would I do that? Insane!

Call me a glutton for punishment because some undefinable force came over me to actually try and achieve this goal, and I have found out something quite powerful. I have grown up! Who knew, right? This isn't a series of poems written by an 11 year-old boy and following him up to a 31 year-old man. No, this is so much more than that. This is my history. These are the stories of the childhood I had, and the life that I lived.

If you can get over the bad writing (okay some of it is downright god awful), you can see me growing up. You can see me developing a style. You can see the time when there were dark days, or when I was feeling disgusted by myself and how I looked.about myself. I have read these poems, and thought "oh that is when my mom and dad were going through that horrible patch in the marriage." (Don't worry they made it through.) I read another poem and I tear up (not because the words are touching, because honestly they are not). I tear up because I remember that part of my life when I was questioning myself and doubting exactly who I was, and if my family would love me. I remember someone in my congregation in the religion I was in treating me so badly, and spreading lies about me. I remember when that person cut at my feelings so deep I could do nothing else but bleed on page. I can look at a poem and think about exactly what emotion I was feeling, and how i was trying to cover it up, because there are some poems where I was scared of feeling that emotion.

These poems reveal so much about me. I decided that I didn't want to touch a word. So much would end on the cutting room floor if I decided to do that, and I can't get those feelings back (as I am not the same person.) So, I will gladly let them shine in all their horrible-ness. :) These are not just poems, this is a history of my teenage years.

I went to an open mic night here in St. Petersburg, Florida a couple years back, and there were a ton of poets there, and an emcee that at first I thought was quite charming. The emcee got up to the podium and announced the name of the next poet. This skinny, frail teenager gets up there with these "emo"-type clothes, with his wallet connected to a chain. He is very scared and shy. You could feel that. He opens his notebook and he just reads this poem that he wrote. He spouts off these forced rhymes, in a style that wasn't very strong, with words not combined well. I don't quite remember what the poem said, but I remember him talking about love. You could tell that the room was uncomfortable because this was not the strongest words ever to be heard coming from a teenagers mouth.

Half-way through his poem the emcee stands up and says, "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt you but we have a special guest here today..." and pleasantly sends this kid off the stage, without him finishing the poem. At the time I remember feeling so much pain for him. I mean this kid got up there and spilled his guts, and maybe the rhymes were forced and maybe his emotions aren't fully understood yet, but he got up there.

You know I think about that day, and look at my poems that I wrote down on paper when i was a teenager. THEY ARE HORRIBLE! I needed that outlet. Bad poetry or not, I needed that release. Life is hard enough without being shut up by adults. The fact that this emcee did that to this teenager, bothered me in my heart. Here we are two years later and I still remember that. I recall not in that moment not fully understanding why this kid I don't know made an impression on me. I completely understand now! I was that kid! I had that inability to form words, and no style at all. There was just these emotions that needed to be let out. This anger, and love for the unknown, and frustration....

It got worse. I remember leaving early that night, and as I walked out of the theater there was that kid crossing the street of downtown St. Petersburg, with this heavy walk that forced his head forward and back. Beside him was his mother...his mother brought him to the poetry reading so that he could share his thoughts and feelings to a group of strangers. That is an image I am never going to forget. That kid may not have fully understood that moment in his life, but I know his mother did. I bet his mother knew that he just needed to say it (even if it wasn't the most eloquent), and she brought her son to the poetry reading so that he could allow himself to use his words.

I go back to these poems in front of me that I wrote when I was a teenager...I don't know if I could have taken being shut up like that. In fact, one of my biggest pet peeves is when I feel like my voice isn't being heard. I cannot allow that to happen to another teenager. They have voices, too. Teenagers may not be able to express them as well as adults (and by the way how many adults do you know that can express themselves...let alone even try) but they have things to say. And if you listen, really listen, not to the words themselves, but to the emotions in the words, you are going to see something very powerful.

That is right, that is what I am saying...everyone can see themselves in the bad poetry that a teenager composes, so don't shut yourself up.

FISH AND FAMILY

2010-11-30T06:21:00.000-08:00

So I would like to begin this blog with this very important warning: I love my family. (Uh oh, that sounds like something bad is about to come, right?) They are some of the most loyal individuals I am ever going to have the privelage to have in my life. (Uh oh, this must be really bad.) They would do anything for you, no matter how they feel towards you at the time. (Uh-oh, what did these people do?)

I have a very important saying that I have created, that at least in my family is the truth: "Family is the closest thing to unconditional love you are ever going to find in a human being." Now what you consider to be your "family" will change that statement as traditional families aren't as common as they once were.....unless you are a member of the O'Roark/Roark household.

This past weekend I went to a family reunion in Dallas, Texas. Every single member of my immediate and extended family was there (minus one aunt who couldn't make it for whatever reasons.) I had every single cousin on that side of the family (there are ten of us, and only one is a girl.) I had every single one of my dad's brothers and sisters (there are six of them)....are you up to count that is 16 people. WAIT!!!! Four of those brothers and sisters are married (and my brother)....ADD 5....21 people! And who could go to a family renunion if the matriarch and patriarch weren't there. Got to love those grandparents! 23 people! Are we done yet? Oh now, my grandmother has two living brothers and sisters. 25 people! One of those has a child with a husband and two kids. 29 people! And still yet one of those brothers and sisters is married. 30 people! Yep, 30 people all staying at a bed and breakfast (with Hitler as the bed and breakfast owner....but that's a blog on it's own) not a hotel. That means that all of us were in walking distance of each other, and there was almost no time to have alone. Smell trouble? Because there was trouble.

Which brings to another saying an uncle once told me..."After three days, fish and family start to stink."

There was fighting and arguing (notice I separated those two words) and there was bitching about this and that and the other. There was people trying to get people's goat, and people not trying and yet succeeding nonetheless. Yet through it all I noticed something. I am the oldest grandchild in my family (on both sides). I noticed that everybody younger than me was getting along and pretty well behaved. We were having the time of our lives, and smiling and laughing and just all around enjoying the company. It seems all those older than us (well, the middle generation; the older generation were nice, quiet and reserved) were just up for arguing ad nauseum. It was insane! I think I figured out why.

All of my cousins have things we do not tell the older generations as they come from a time when a lot of things are just wrong (no way to look at it, no angle to try to maneuver to). There is no acceptance of things, just plain wrong. However, my cousins and myself and brother all have no real secrets from each other. (Secrets seems like such a strong word, but those little things that your family really doesn't know about you, and they don't want to know.) All of those surface things that we are told are "wrong" are not hidden from the other cousins. We may not speak all the time, but I know that we can all be ourselves around each other. I think that is not what my family is missing, I think that is what most families are missing. Communication.

There is no communication. And the odd thing is is that nobody in the family (or any family for that matter) has true secrets. Everyone knows them, but if someone finds them "wrong" instead of talking about them, they choose to pretend it doesn't exist, allowing the "secrets" to just fester. So here is the dilemma, becasue nobody speaks about them and yet everyone knows about them, here is what happens: 1) Nobody talks about it. Which leads to 2) A family member allowing themselves to create whatever scenario about that person they want to in their mind, whether true or false (as they won't speak about it). Which leads to 3) A sense of anger developing for that family member because you believe your created scenarios to be true. Which leads to 4) The anger going from internal to external. Which leads to 5) Yelling. Which leads to 6) People yelling back. Which leads to 7) Pushing. Which leads to 8) Violence. Which if you are not careful can lead to 9) the breakdown of a family that at one time was so loyal and dependable.

Communication is always the key. I don't know too many people who would disagree with that statement. However, I have seen what happens when no one communicates. I saw this past weekend a difference in generations. I see what happens. My parents' generation come from the world of "if you don't speak about it, than it is better not to think about." Whereas myself and generations below me are clearly part of a "we may not agree with each other but I say we discuss it all and just talk it through."

You know I love my family (and that is not me convincing anyone, but just a statement of fact.) This past weekend proved to me just how important they are to me in my life. They formed me and created me in a lot of ways that nobody can take away. My eyes, my nose, my sense of humor, etc. However, sometimes I look at the world and I see the generation below me just preparing to ruin the world. But then I look at the generation above me and I see how much my generation has shaped and improved the world. Maybe that is what the generation below me is doing, and I have to be prepared to face that.

The fact of the matter is this. Fish and family do start to stink after three days. However, let's face it, just like fish, you need a dose every once in a while. It's good for the heart.

TENNIS SHOES AND TELEPHONE WIRES

2010-11-16T08:40:00.000-08:00

So one of my many jobs at Ruth Eckerd Hall is to go into low income schools and work with teachers by teaching part of their curriculum but doing it by coming at the material in a more artistic way. I tend to focus more on the writing of poetry. Well one of the things we do is thing style called a box poem, which helps the kids write a poem without them even having a clue they are doing it until the end. Well, I do this style of poem with them based on landmarks that are from certain continents that they are studying in 3rd Grade.

However, the trick of the poem is that you have to explain what landmarks are to these kids. Now most of these kids do not see beyond the 6 block radius of their worlds. Landmarks that we are going to be talking about are simply pictures in books. That is all. I live 10 minutes from the beach, and many of these kids have never even seen a beach....you would think I would be joking, but I got bad news, these kids exist. Very few have any idea how close they even are to the beach.

So landmarks come up and are explained, and once they can grasp the concept, you ask for them to provide landmarks they have in their head. And you get the standard replies: Statue of Liberty, Eiffel Tower (yes the kids who have never been to the beach in their back yard, know the Eiffel Tower), Mt. Rushmore, Grand Canyon, Great Wall of China. Until one little boy raises his hand to be heard, he is so proud of his landmark, "a piece that marks a piece of the world, that lots of people visit.")

He proudly says, "Mr. Jared! I have a landmark! Tennis shoes that have been tied together and thrown over a telephone wire." The class erupts into applause, and as he is a joke-ster in the group, he isn't really bothered by it. I am not so sure that he is aware that it was funny, but he laughs right along with them....including me. At first glance, this exchange is very funny, because how do you let a third grader know that this is a landmark, but not really the one i am looking for.

I would like to take this time out that anyone who doesn't know, tied shoes thrown over telephone wires is an indication that drugs are being sold in the area. Though I don't know that this kid knows this exact thing, it is still very funny that he connects that to a landmark.

I laughed for a good three minutes, without stopping. I couldn't breathe, the teacher had to take over for a minute because I could not catch the wind in my breath. She was laughing as well, but I found it absolutely hysterical. Yet again another very interesting way a 3rd Grader takes a question. Kids are awesome.

But even when the laughter subsides, something sad tends to come to the surface. Clearly the kid has seen this and has connected with a landmark of some kind. This is the world he comes from...or one he lives around. This is a fantastic kid, and he really is quite a wonderful and funny student. However, you think of them in 3rd Grade and you go, "You have to get them now. Teach them at this age."

This whole school is filled with wonderful, amazing, and astonishing kids who come from worlds that I can only imagine. I mean my mom and dad were on food stamps for a little bit of time when I was a pre-teen. I mean we had it tough, but I didn't realize that due to great grandparents, I was never really in any grave danger. I didn't live in a bad area (a working class area, but never a bad area), I never was confronted with drugs until I got out of high school, and the world I lived in I thought was pretty annoying, but in reality there was no wolves knocking at my door trying to blow down anything in my well-developed brick house...(hey, who knew that that story had a meaning...and my dad is a bricklayer...double meaning).

I see the world that these kids I work with grow up in and all I can do is just hope that they learn in their youth to fight it and to get out of it. They are all so capable. Some of them are so incredibly smart. Some of them, sadly, you can see the doubt and anger of their world starting to seep in.

Politics be damned. I believe a song I know put it best, the only things you really leave behind in this world are "children and art." Why are we not putting our money in the future of the world?

PROJECT: SHATTERED SILENCE

2010-11-13T10:12:00.000-08:00

Project: Shattered Silence is a group of teenagers that I created last year to amazing success. Through this group we write a play about differences and how they make us special. The end of the year performance last year was sold out and standing room only. Well, I was given a stay for another year, to let the group grow and try a different topic. The group expanded from 17 to 36 people.

Today marked the day when we were going to talk about the topic. Well, due to some huge event (IRON MAN) that was going on in Tampa Bay today there was only 14 that could brave the traffic to come. I wouldn't change what I learned today.

These are all teenagers who are being very brave and opening up their lives and stories in hopes that in turn it is going to help others. We discussed turning points in lives....and then the waterworks poured forth. I couldn't believe what i was hearing...such truth, told in a way that wasn't about a bunch of teenagers that just wanted to be heard....they wanted share.

And share they did....about their personal ideas about family, a lost father, cancer, dude ranches, the time they realized they can understand others, the day they understood what heartbreak really looks like, or maybe there was no turning point in their life that they could point to, or maybe their mother believes their life was saved by freeing fish in the ocean.

I learned something powerful today, and that is that no matter who you are, your story deserves to be told. I saw that everyone has an amazing story! Not a good story! Not an okay story! They have an amazing story! They aren't all about big gigantic life changing moments, but sometimes they are about how I got picked on cause people thought I carried my books "like a girl" in the crook of my arm. And when I overheard that I officially carried them to my side, more "like a boy would carry them." And that began my conforming moment.

It was beautiful in it's honesty. Talking and sharing....giving and taking...yin and yang...ebb and flow.....this is how beautiful honesty of the world gets shared.

TRUTH IS

2010-11-11T03:58:00.000-08:00

So this morning I woke up to something quite extraordinary. You know the past 24 hours were a bit of an emotional drain on me in a very odd way. It was a time when I found out that someone I respect very highly (and still do) wasn't really respecting what I have put so much time into for the past year or two. That is a hard thing to come to grips with. And yet, this morning, I wake up to my lovely social connection site (FACEBOOK...yep I'm a lover) and I open my email and what do I see....an email from a former student of mine.

Inside the email it was a link to a page of someone at her school (an older teenager) who is doing something to try and make the world a better place. It was kids with postets on their palms and pushing them at the camera. The student with the postet was in the background, sometimes clear and sometimes blurry. You could tell that it was done by a high school student, but I was so amazed that someone was trying so hard to make a difference (and as this student grows older and gets stronger in themselves and what they are doing, will absolutely make a bigger than a school difference.) In the email my former student said to me that she came across this kid in her school who was doing this and it made her think of me immediately and she shared with me the link...It is called TRUTH IS...(See below)

Well, let me tell you that when I read it something popped into my head. I am doing something right! If a student is thinking of me when some teenager is doing something powerful for themselves, well let me tell you that makes me smile. That means that no matter what other people may think, I am doing something right. I have not only motivated kids to try something different, but when someone they know is doing something powerful and impactful, these students are thinking of me (even when they are not my "students" anymore).

That is when I realized something that we all know inside. You have to not let anyone else dictate what you feel about yourself and what you are doing. Sure we say it all the time to people who are going through something similar, but when it is ourselves going through it, well it isn't always the first bit of advice we go to. Sure we will tell others that we believe it and that we are over it because not everyone will like us, but inside it does hurt a bit. Well, this student sent this message at the perfect time.

The truth is, that what we always knew is the truth. Not everyone will like you, but when someone makes an impact on your life, then you need to tell them. You never know what they are going through or what un-special feeling they are having inside at the moment.

The truth is, that for every person who doesn't respect you there is another one who does respect you.

The truth is, one person can make a difference....but you have to actually speak up and tell the person who made one in you.

The truth is, you don't really ever know the reach you have made. So always believe in what you do.

The truth is, we always have great advice to give when other people are going through something. Now we have to believe it when we hear it or go through it.

The truth is, I will doubt myself again. I will feel left out again.

The truth is, I will feel included again. I will no what I'm doing is right again.

The truth is, you should see what teenagers really have the power to do...
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=324632&id=633649007

Thanks, Sara.

GRANDMA'S BOOK

2010-11-10T18:26:00.000-08:00

So something happened tonight that is hard to put into words...especially when your blogs are usually about thought you are having randomly. I don't really like sharing emotions through an electronic setting. It just feels so distant, but tonight is clearly going to have to be a lesson to learn in my corner. What do you do when someone you respect very much, is actually doesn't really respect you?

I work in a place where art is of a main concern, and I deal with an art form, that although is more my second favorite form of theater, is one that I'm good at, and is actually the more popular art form. I also have a degree in public relations, so I know how to get people into the seats. But it hurts your heart when you find out that others may not like that you get that much attention. See this all sounds so high school as I am typing it, which is making me think that this is all so high school. So why bother to keep going? So I won't...

But I will talk about jealousy. What a stupid thing to feel most of the times (I'm a firm believer that all emotions have their place in this world.) But most of the time jealousy is just a stupid emotion to feel, because it doesn't lead anywhere. All jealousy does is leads to anger, and the type of anger that isn't a motivating kind.

I have never been the type of person to share my feelings freely. In fact, at first glance people may think of me as just someone who is a bit scary. When they get to know me they find a lot of hidden layers, but I have to say that I'm quite a sentimental person. I respect people so much for what they can do that I cannot, and I'm not the jealous kind. (Oh, my faults come in very different colored packages though....I'm no angel!) However, I don't understand jealousy. I have felt it before, of course, but I discovered really early that it doesn't lead anywhere. You just end up staying in the same place.

Anger can be such a strong motivating force and breeding ground for creativity, but the form of anger that is attached to jealousy is so stagnant. I can't afford myself that time to stay there. Proudly I am 31, but 32 is coming right around the corner (NOT 30!!!!) so I can't be bothered to stay in one emotional state for such a long period of time.

Isn't staying still how generation gaps happen? One generation gets jealous of another generation so they just stay still until the "younger" generation long surpasses them, and then the "older" generation has to catch up. I deal with teenagers all the time, if you look (and you don't have to look too closely) you can actually see the worlds tearing apart at the seams. It is sad.

I had a grandmother who may have passed away at 88, but she was not 88 at all. She knew what she was. There is a great quote I heard on a blog I read of a great friend of mine and she said, in order to be positive you have to accept the reality. The reality my grandmother understood is that she was not 22 anymore, or 33, or 44, or 55, or 66, or 77....she was 88. She understood that and than accepted that fact. Then she proceeded to act like "the young" were supposed to. She was loved by all ages. She never got jealous of people, she was happy for everyone who succeeded, or felt like they succeeded. She was amazing, remarkable and special, and maybe i should take out a chapter of her book.

Jealousy is for the birds...who has the time. Jealousy makes us stand still, and time isn't waiting around for the jealous to catch up....moving on.

POETIC MEMOIRS

2010-11-09T13:54:00.000-08:00

I am sitting at Panera Bread right now with my laptop and a stack of papers so high that Wilt Chamberlain would stand on his tippy-toes just to see over them. Something powerful happened to me today, and I don't know where it came from. I have been lamenting my dry spell lately. Everyone says that you need to be sad in order to write. Well, I am not so sure that I would agree with that. You see I grabbed my stack of papers that are filled with ideas on napkins and the openings to poems and just older poems that I just seemed to have forgotten that I ever wrote. Well, some of those poems were from the "sad days." Boy, did I have a few of those. I don't know if maybe I wasn't great at expressing myself, but I was just appalled by those poems. If they were written by somebody else, I probably would have told the poet to "get over it." Hahahaha, but alas, they were me. So, "Jared, get over it!" Nope, instead my motivational force isn't sadness, it is motivation. Whenever I feel like I can take over the world I start getting ideas that I jot down.

You know, when I got back from the gym today I just thought that I would lay on the bed and maybe read. Then I said, you know what I am going to organize my book of work, and then I remembered I had a free smoothie on my Panera card (yes, I have one, don't judge). I came right on up here to the great Panera Bread and sat down and all of a sudden facebook wasn't calling me (for once) what was calling me was my stack of papers. My pages that reminded me of my past, and where I was at a certain point in my life.....these poems are my memoirs. These poems and these ideas have dates attached. I never thought until today that these writings are the history of my life. They show me that I am human, I have written some horrible shit, and I have written some amazing stuff.

I may not be the best, or the most forward thinking individual who ever lived, but I have something to say (and apparently judging from the folder of ideas, a lot that I have left to say that I never bothered to say.) I am someone powerful, and I can be proud of all that I am, and all that I am going to become...whatever that may be.

Maybe the point I am trying to make isn't what I care about. I spend so much time trying to make a point to other people that I stop and I go, "You know what I write for me. I write to make the point to myself." That is who I am. I talk out loud so that I can make sense of what is in my brain. And when my voice is gone, I write to make sense of my brain.

Yes, my dear friend is right in what he once said...."Poetry (or in any writing) isn't to make sense to the reader, is for me to make sense of myself."

DIFFERENT HEIGHTS

2010-11-08T06:20:00.000-08:00

Project: Shattered Silence is a group that I started last year with 17 teenagers from all over the Tampa Bay area. The group was designed to help show that the arts are not about being seen the arts are about making sure your message is heard. It was more successful than I could have ever imagined, with two sold out performances, and a possiblity to try and take the show to New York an Off-Broadway. It was exciting on many levels. Therefore, after last year, I was asked to do the project again. This time when I showed up on the first day I was presented with 40 teenagers that were all asking to be a part of this project. I never would have imagined that in one year it would have gained that much steam. However, when the time came to choose the topic and message for this year's show, the same thing started to happen....discussion.

This was the most powerful day of last year's project and this year proved no different. I was in there watching 40 teenagers discuss so vividly, clearly, and no so-clearly in a respectful manner religion, heroes, scolisosis, being gay, and so on. Did they all agree? Absolutely not! They were not all on the same page, and truth be told life is going to change the opinions of most of them. They were speaking from their perspective of the right now. Yet, they were stating their opinions and listening to the others who opposed them in a respectful manner. And they responded to what was being said, so therefore they were listening too. I remain impressed by their inability to not see eye-to-eye, and yet their ability to remain calm when that happens.

Then I thought, this world isn't meant for us to see eye-to-eye. Hell, we are all different heights. We all stand at different levels, even physically....sometimes I can't see eye-to-eye because that is the way my body stands. So if I can't expect to do it physically why would I expect our minds to be able to do it. I mean I don't choose my friends on if I can look at them directly in the eye, why would I choose them based on if our opinions see eye-to-eye. As a matter of my opinion, if we all saw eye-to-eye and agreed all the time how boring of a world this would become. I don't want everyone to agree, what I do want is for people to respectfully acknowledge opinions contrary to their own.

Arguments are an interesting thing, people always tend to get violently involved in them sometimes. We try to yell our point, and talk over each other (myself included at times) in order to get the message into people's heads. Does that ever work in the moment? No it doesn't work ever!

Here is what I believe, I believe that when our minds are changed during an argument it is never over the course of the argument that our point of view is changed. If our minds somehow go through an overhaul at some point, chances are good that it is always after the argument has been completed. That is the time to self-reflect on what was said in the moment. We have allowed ourselves the time to reflect on how we said things, how we acted, or reacted to certain things said.

What is going on with this world when I can get 40 teenagers to get together and calmly acknowledge their differences in opinions, and yet adults are yelling all over this country? How does that happen? How can I get kids who "aren't supposed to know adult things" talk about abortion, or gay rights, politics, or religion.......adults cant even do that and they "are supposed to know about adult things."

Every time I turn around someone is getting on to this younger generation for something they did or said, or didn't do or didn't say.....well here is what people in America are missing.....QUIT TALKING AND START LISTENING!!!! People want to talk. People in America want to talk and be heard by politicians, not be talked to them. Teenagers want to talk and be heard by adults, not listen to their lectures about what they should be doing. Workers want to talk and be heard by administration, and not just told what must be done first. When are people going to realize that we are more apt to be paid attention to when we are paying attention?

So here is my lesson, learn from the teenagers, they are ready to talk....I got news for you...they have started talking already....you listening? If not, be prepared to be left behind....they end up taking over.

WEATHERED GRAVESTONES

2010-11-02T08:23:00.000-07:00

So about a week ago I was in Boston, Mass. This would be my first time ever visiting the city. So I had to do the tourist-y stuff. I needed to see Fenway (well, maybe next time.) I had to see the Cheers restaurant (and would you believe that everybody knew my name?) I wanted to walk the freedom trail (a bit ambitious, but we did walk a lot of it.) I wanted to see the Maparium (hello, I was inside of a three-story glass globe.) And I wanted to see the gravesite of Paul Revere. HOLY ONE IF BY LAND AND TWO IF BY SEA BATMAN! This got me.

His gravesite sits among a sea of tombstones, and you have to search pretty hard for it. You would think it would be a huge tombstone stating who this is and that he is buried in this spot. It is a tiny tombstone. In fact, you would have no idea that anyone of any importance was lying in this spot. Just a bevy of pebbles surrounding a smoothed over rock with two words carved on it…Paul Revere.

I will gladly take this moment to come clean with my unhealthy obsession with cemeteries. I have no idea why I like them (well I like them during the day time.) I just do. I think cemeteries are beautiful. Maybe because despite that we think they may be grim, it is a place where people go to honor ones that have died. I also like the juxtaposition of people who go there realizing that we have to honor life, but we do this by recognizing death. I also just loved the fact that people who have passed on can announce that they were here - that they had a place in this world.

However, this cemetery in Boston showed me something completely different. There were tombstones that were clearly marked in the 16 or 1700’s. I was astounded that I was looking at something from that time period. (Let’s face it you don’t get a lot of that in many parts of this country.) However, as I was going in and out of the headstone rows (and irritating a few people as to how someone can take that many pictures of a cemetery) I noticed something strange…the gravestones had been weathered (as things tend to do when being left outside for 300 years.) However, something struck me on this particular day.

You see the headstones only had small amounts of information on them. On the newer ones (and by newer I mean like 1800’s) you could make out the name and the year they died, and if you squinted you could also make out their quote they left to be remembered by. However, for most of the gravestones, you couldn’t make out a single thing. They had been beaten by rain, and snow, and sleet, and wind. Time had showed these gravestones who the boss was. Time had washed away any indication of what was there. All that remained was a round headstone marking that underneath this rock is…was a body.

This got me to thinking about life (as for me that is what gravesites tend to do.) Eventually we all pass on. Eventually Time will show all of us who is the master. We are forgotten. In time. Even something as powerful as a rock or stone gets weathered down to a smooth surface. All that remains is a rock that shows that someone did exist on this earth.

I don’t say this to be macabre or to be negative, because I don’t think of it as a negative. I think it is a very positive thing at which to look. Life is going by, we are getting older with every passing day. Time is already starting to show us that it is going to move on (maybe the only thing that moves on despite all human efforts.) Why waste that time? We may want to be remembered (we all do) but why spend all of that life just trying to be remembered. Why not just do it because we believe personally in what we are doing. Stand up for things. Fight for a better world. Fight for what you believe in. Who knows maybe some of these empty gravesites are soldiers who fought for what they believed in? I don’t know. Soldiers who did what they had to do for the good of what they believed in. They were interested in the present and fought for a future where their names wouldn’t be remembered. That is such a powerful thought to me. That someone would fight for a greater good and not just to be remembered.

Or maybe these gravestones are mothers or daughters who stood behind while their fathers and husbands went to war to make sure that life was as good as it could be for their children. Once again, fighting in the present for a future they didn’t know about and not to be remembered. I think what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t matter if you are remembered, what matters is that while you have that time, before Time takes it from you, maybe you should go off and do everything that you believe in…whether that is fighting for a cause, or seeing Europe.

I don’t know if there is only one life or not. I like to think there is, but truth be told, only certain people can tell you for a fact if that is the case, and they ain’t talking.

I guess the lesson I am choosing to learn from weathered gravestones is that life is short, Time marches on and forgets everyone, so make the most of the seconds you have.

FEATHERS IN THE GRASS

2010-06-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

So after wasting getting up at 5:15 and "wasting" an hour and a half on the internet i decided to spend no more time stressing over the oil spill for once, and take an hour at the gym to send my energies elsewhere for a minute. As I was walking to the gym I noticed something, there was this huge gorgeous feather just lying on the grass. It also had freshly fallen from a bird, you could tell by how clean it was and untouched.

This feather got me thinking about myself when I was a child and how if I ever saw a feather on the grass i would have picked it up in a heartbeat. It wouldn't have mattered if it was freshly removed or not. And then I would play with that feather, and keep it in my room as if it was the most precious object I have ever found. (It was my gold. It was my oil. It was my Dolce & Gabana cologne. Hello?)

This morning I walked over to pick it up, but then thought, "What is the point in picking up the feather? What would I even do with it?" And then I continued my walk to the gym. It was on the rest of the walk that I thought, "Why wouldn't I pick it up? If I was a child that feather most assuredly would not still be there even if I was heading to the zoo or an amusement park. Nothing would have stopped me from picking up that feather."

What happens to us as we get older that we start forgetting those amazing childhood moments? I am sure that if I sat and contemplated it I could come up with so many more amazing and interesting ways to keep and preserve that feather than a six-year-old could. However, I decided I didn't want to use my brain that way anymore. I believe, at this moment while I am typing this, what an awful decision that was to just leave that feather on the grass.

A feather is special. A feather to me symbolizes strength, wisdom, flight, heights, elegance, beauty, and perseverance. That is what a feather indicates if I sit and dream about it. However, I decided to disregard all of that beauty and pass up the feather. I don't know if a six-year-old would have thought of any of those things, and yet they would respect that feather more than this 30-ahem-something would. Maybe a six-year-old knows all along how beautiful and magical a feather can be. Maybe the six-year-old just doesn't have the words yet to express the intelligence they possess.

So I want to make a vow (and who cares that it took me all these words to say this), but I will never pass up another feather on the grass again. I am going to respect that what that is on the grass is not just a feather, but a bit of childhood brilliance. I don't think that childhood brilliance should be left sitting on the grass.

ALICE CARTER - CALL THEM BY NAME

2010-04-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

So not to start this blog off on a depressing note, but last night someone who is very dear to me in my life passed away from cancer. Although I have not spoken to this woman in probably five years (and not for any reason) she has been a staple on my life. She has been in my life since I was a child growing up in Little Rock, Arkansas.

When I first heard about what happened (through a text from my mother) I immediately told my mom that I am moved to write a blog about it. However, I told my mother that I wouldn't mention her by name. I began to think about that that statement. I have to mention her by name.

THIS WOMAN WAS ALICE CARTER - AND SHE WAS REMARKABLE!!!

Why wouldn't I mention her by name? Alice Carter is a woman who is such an important part of my childhood memories. Alice Carter gave me my very first job ever (outside of my father). I remember rolling papers for the newspaper route that she had. I remember Alice Carter ordering pizzas and sodas, and my brother and I (along with all of her kids) staying up to roll papers, eat pizza, and play video games. I even remember the apartment she lived in before she moved out of the city into a fancy trailer outside the city limits. I remember going over to see her before moving to Florida, and I remember advancing from video games to a board game. (Although I don't remember which one.)

Alice Carter always wore a bandanna, I remember that. Alice Carter always was the nicest person and cared for people, but she was especially kind to my brother and I. I remember that as the names from people from my childhood come and go, I remember the name Alice Carter. I remember all of her kids, even though we are more facebook buddies than actual day-to-day friends (I know you are reading this Alicia and Michelle...thanks for reading.) I remember that Alice Carter and her kids and I always had a good time when we were together, even though no money was spent.

I figure this...I HAVE to mention her name. Most of you guys reading this don't even know who Alice Carter is, maybe you never will. But I know that I have memories attached with Alice Carter that will be lost forever if I don't mention them. I know that the name Alice Carter will be lost if I don't tell you her name and who she was. I know that the spirit of Alice Carter (her energy, her drive, her kindness, her generosity) will only live on if I explain how wonderful it was?

I think the time has come to mention people by name. The people that are in our memories that connect with great and good thoughts should be mentioned by their given name. That is how we identify them. That is what I think we all should do; if we want them to be lost, then don't even talk about them. However, if we want to tell others about the great nostalgia they bring up (or if we just want to keep them as a forefront in our minds) then we need to mention these special people by their name.

I won't hide Alice Carter as a blog. She is special to me and will now and always be special to me. My childhood cannot be replaced, and she was part of making mine a memorable one. Thank you Alice Carter; Love you and miss you.

FIREWORK SPECTACLE

2010-03-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

The other night I was at the Grand Floridian Hotel (Resort, whatever) in Disneyworld (land, whatever) as Scott's best friend from Maine was in town, and after an aggressive conversation Scott and I agreed to make the trek back up to Orlando to see her and her family again on a Tuesday night, no less (sorry to my job if I appeared less then my best the next day.)

As we arrived we realized that we came just in time to see the nightly firework spectacle that occurs in front of Cinderella's castle. Of course it is a ways a way from the resort, but you can see it brilliantly in the night sky. There were ten kids of different ages standing right by the water of the resort watching these amazing fireworks from the distance. Here's the thing about those ten kids - five of them were under the age of ten, and the other five were over the age of twenty-five.

I don't think this sudden diminishing age gap was the "magic of Disney" or because we were at the "happiest place on earth." I believe the true magic was simply just the fireworks.

There is power in the simplistic magic of fireworks that makes the loudest kids stand in awe and helps adults forget that they are not children. Is it the noise? Is it the colors? Is it the grandeur? Who cares?

For that brief moment there were no distractions for anyone. There were no business prospects. No Wii Nintendo. No chores. No bad feelings. There was just ten kids (and five of them would never be classified as kids away from fireworks) staring with inspiring awe at the exploding colors.

We, as a society, tend to separate ourselves physically every day from the world. With every invention created to bring the world closer together we all get further apart. Every second we spend on the computer is a second we don't spend with our friends or our family. Every time we plop ourselves down to watch television we allow that generational gap to grow ever wider.

We are always trying to be new and fresh, and yet no matter what the old is always what astounds us. Everyone out there with an ipod ever foamed at the mouth when someone else has an ipod? Anyone with a computer ever had time stop when you saw your friends computer? Anyone with a television ever actually faint when you see someone else's television? And even if you walked in the room and you were in awe at the television, did everyone else in the room just stop too, or was it just one person? Chances are good that it was just you.

Fireworks, sunsets, hot air balloons, alligators in the wild, etc....these are the things that makes everyone stop and watch. These are the things that remind us that our age is not what is keeping us apart from one another. We are the biggest part at keeping us apart. A five year-old and an adult are both mouth watering when they look up and see a hot air balloon or a person parachuting from the sky. An 80 year-old and a 20 year-old can stop and stare at the beauty of sunsets. A five year-old and a fifteen year-old are all together astounded at the alligator that lies on the bank of the river. And there is not a single age in the world that doesn't see fireworks in the sky and stop and take in the beauty they bring to enhance the night sky.

So maybe instead of completely engrossing ourselves in these "wonders of technology" to bring the world closer together (and I won't totally put down technology as it does absolutely serve its purpose...I love my ipod more than anything) maybe we should see if we can "stop time" and just see how far back we can go to see what brought everyone in the world closer together. What in the world makes the old and the young all meet in the middle?

And to me that night in Orlando, it wasn't a mouse or a roller coaster or an amazing arcade room...it was the night being lit up with the firework spectacle.

THE TURTLE AND THE TOTEM POLE

2010-03-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

So today I was pulling up to my apartment complex when I saw something I had to shake my head to realize that what I was seeing wasn't just a vision. I saw the maintenance man at the apartment complex kicking a turtle that was in a parking space that nobody was in (and nobody wanted it either.) This was not a man who was nudging a turtle to get on the grass either. This man was kicking the turtle. I parked my car and by the time I got out of it (my voice ready to yell at this human being) he had got in his golf cart and gone. I also though, man if I did say anything he may have just retaliated by killing the turtle. I then proceeded to pick up the turtle and put it by the lake in the middle of the complex (where it most likely came from). His shell had been completely scratched up and I don't know if it could walk. I am hoping when I walk by this afternoon that it will be gone swimming in the water.

I was so angry. It's not like this man was protecting his life....FROM A TURTLE!!!! This was not an animal that attacks people. It doesn't hurt people. If the maintenance man was a fish or a bug then maybe he would have a case. I was so disgusted, I saw nothing but the color red. I had to put myself in that turtle's shoes (and yes, I know that sounds odd), but remember a turtle isn't a leaf or a tree, this animal can feel pain. It feels a cut. And this is not a bird or a dog, when it is being attacked or hurt can fight back easily. This is not an animal that has a distinct sound that it can let out to get help from anyone hearing. This is a simple turtle.

I called the apartment complex and gave the description of the man. I even told them that it was a maintenance man and that he was in a golf cart (how many can they have 2?) I am not up for getting anyone fired, but I'll be damned if I am going to sit by and allow someone to attack a helpless animal in such a manner. They were outraged, and couldn't believe this happened, and she seemed so furious I am sure they are going to take care of it.

However, this brought something up in my head. I am not going to go into all the things that I think that are wrong in this world. (You wouldn't stay reading this for that long.) However, I think I know why nothing is happening for the better in this country. We, as the people who think they are at the bottom of the totem pole, aren't angry enough. We are angry enough to complain. We are angry enough to feel the emotion. But when it comes to speaking up and joining together and using our voice, we just aren't quite that angry.

This may be an odd analogy but speaking up for that turtle is like speaking up for anyone who is being unjustly beaten. (And we all know people like that weather it is physical or figuratively by society or governments or whatever.) How many times do we use the voice we have. It is so funny, cause a president and Congress and everyone who is in the power of a position can have use all that power that that position will allot them. However, one person comes by and says something vicious about them (whether true or not) then how much power do they have then? Sometimes those words go away, but a lot of the time those words linger.

We are not useless people who go to work every single day and come home every single night, and watch our shows before going to bed. We have the most powerful thing in the world, WE HAVE A VOICE!!!! And that voice only gets used if we allow that anger to shout it forth. No one uses their voice effectively when they are happy or sad. That voice is used to its fullest power when we are angry. Anger is a powerful emotion.

However, the only thing that combats anger is fear. Fear fights anger really well, why do you think that a lot of people go through that part of life where they want to go for more, but they don't? Their fear is outweighing their anger (or drive, which is a form of mild anger) to achieve what they are desiring.

So here is what I think. If you are someone out there who has a brain and feels that there are things that are going wrong in this world. And since I know everyone on this entire planet knows or feels when something isn't right, then the time has come to stop waiting for other people to solve the problem for us and get out there and join our voices together to go out there and stop what is being done to human beings here and all over the world.

Listen, are we at the bottom of the totem pole in this society? ABSOLUTELY!!!! No doubt about that, but I would rather be at the bottom than at the top. For if you are at the top and you aren't keeping the people from getting angry, than that bottom part of the pole will rebel against you and walk out from underneath you. Let's face it when that happens than the rest of the pole will collapse to the floor. Now if the top disappears than what happens to the rest of the pole?

Let's face it, the bottom of the totem pole has way more power than the top? So why not use it to our advantage?

THE COUNTRY IS KILLING US WITH SLOW JAZZ

2010-03-10T11:58:00.000-08:00

So this morning I spent a good majority of my time on the telephone. At first I called UPS who sent me to the Best Buy who sent me to their Best Buy main office. The why to all of this is completely unimportant. In my wild goose chase for my missing computer part I found that two things were the same no matter where I called: 1) I inevitably was going to be getting a fake computer woman (though i don't want to put her down, she was very nice; though not responsive), 2) The companies are getting smart, and if you want to speak to a real person you can no longer just push 0, and 3) During the waiting time they play nothing but slow jazz. Then they wonder why I am so mad when they finally get to me.

I think this country's big businesses are trying to kill us all with slow jazz. They make us wait forever on the phone for every small reason (and I'm still not convinced the employees aren't playing on facebook while they are "going to get a manager"). They make us wait while the nice computer woman (nice cause she never yells back at me when i yell at her) goes through the list of numbers that we have to push (none of which ever seem to match what I am looking for.) They make us wait while they send us to the right department, as we were sent to the wrong department in the first place. Waiting....waiting....waiting...

I'm sick and tired of waiting!!!

So I begin to wonder, how much of our life is spent waiting? Don't expect any wonderful calculations, I didn't do any. But I don't think I have to. I think if you are reading this you know how much of our time is spent waiting for things on the phone. And please raise your hand if you think that this waiting process that they put us through makes us just more angry. I know it's a blog, I can't see you, but something is telling me that I don't need to. You can put your hand down now.

So much time is spent waiting on these frivolous nothing things. (And most of the time we end up hanging up anyway.) And I think life and time is passing us by, when we have so many other things to accomplish. But here lies the Catch-22, we are becoming such an immediate society that we refuse to wait. We are willing to wait (though getting angry) on the phone to complain about the part we didn't get from Best Buy, but when it comes to life lessons or life goals we have lost the power to wait.

I was told the other day that I "want everything so immediately." And I was taken aback (as I usually tend to be when someone wants to take on me, which I love). I realized that that person was right. I have all of these goals and I don't want to wait anymore, so I do what i do with the phone, I hang up. I think most of us are like that, and I definitely think the youth of this country are turning into that. It hurts me.

The world around us is becoming so immediate, yet when it comes to fixing the problems (even something as simple as a part you ordered for your computer) the world is still far behind. When it comes to complaining about something or finding out something that happened to us we want to speak to a real human being (and trust me the UPS guy got some words he shouldn't have had to endure.....including my brilliant line "YOU ARE RIGHT, YOU ARE NOT FED EX AND THAT DOES SUCK.")

It is time to focus on ourselves in a humble way. We have got to realize that WAITING IS IMPORTANT, but it isn't worth waiting for when there is "slow jazz" playing. Waiting is only important when we are going for the gold; when we are trying to achieve our goals the old fashioned way, through hard work and pain. Besides when we do that kind of waiting, it tends to be more swing music then old jazz.

So let's all make a pact (even though we are 14 people reading this blog strong) and when we are waiting and slow jazz is playing, let's hang up. However, when there is pain and excitement and fear and swing music we hear, that means it is all going to be worth the wait.

FADES IN THE BACKGROUND

2010-01-31T05:17:00.001-08:00

So I was chatting it up on facebook with a friend of mine whom I haven't talked with in a long time. One of those friends that you always got along with but time and space just got in the way. Well there we were, she and I were gabbing on about our love for Scrabble and how we can't find anyone to play with us anymore as if no time had passed.

As time walked on in the conversation my grandmother's passing came up and my friend brought up her mother and how this past year was the year that marked my friend being alive longer than she knew her mother. I don't know why, but i teared up. I cried (and I am not a crier.) My friend talked about going to Italy because she realized that life is too short and you can't wait around to accomplish your goals. She talked about how her mother's death taught her that lesson. And as I was talking about my grandmother I started realizing how special that woman was cause of how she treated and loved everyone, despite her sharp wit and tongue.

However, this is not a "life-is-short" blog; we all know that lesson. However, as time marches on we talk less and less about our loved ones that have passed; or we stop discussing why the person we are with or why our family is important to us; or we stop mentioning the things that our loved ones did for us (no matter how small.) This is a very dangerous thing to stop talking about.

If we stop bringing these things up from time to time then they begin to fade into the background and just become the pieces of cloth that is on our skin, and they no longer are the threads that binds the cloths together. These are the things that make us whole. The way someone completes us, the lesson we learned when the person passed, or the little thing that someone did that made us go, "that is why i love them." Those are the threads.

For example, take it whenever in life you learned that important life lesson of "life is short" That time when we learned that lesson helped us put into perspective that hose dreams we have for ourselves or the goals of traveling or whatever are slowly losing time. Therefore that lesson is the thread that can sew the dream to the reality.

Or: maybe the person we love is getting on our deepest nerves one day, almost to the point of us just wanting to walk away. That memory of the time they let you sing in the car without asking you to shut up could be thread that holds the walking away to staying together.

We can't stop talking about these important things. These are the moments in life when we had realizations; when something that never made sense before became clear, and if we mention those moments but then begin to walk away from them and lose them out of our vocabulary, then we tend to go back to the way we were before the lesson was learned. What progress have we made when we do that?

So I say that if your grandmother made you realize that goals are to be accomplished or if your special someone put a note of gratitude in your car visor and you understood why you were with that person, or if your dog wanting you to love on him made you realize that simple things are important too, than don't stop talking about it. Mention it. Bring it up. And keep in mind that the friends that roll their eyes at the cheesiness of the conversation are the friends that haven't learned that you have to mention these things, cause these are the things that are the fabric of true happiness.

It's not achieving the goal that is the true joy, it is the moment when you realize you can do it.

BITE THE BULLET

2010-01-21T11:06:00.001-08:00

Love. This is the only word in any language that is complicated to understand. I mean it has so many levels (and you're not always happy when you feel it which makes it more confusing.) Love holds a lot of weight, as it should, but I think sometimes it holds too much weight. As a society we assign it a place in the stratosphere. We make love this big thing in the sky that is graced on certain people. We make love this thing that people have to work for. Love is supposed to be a power not a "thing." And the truth of the matter is: EVERYONE DESERVES LOVE!

Love has levels. There is a love of one person to another person. Love of parent to child. Love of friend to friend. Love of person to dog. Love of yourself. Love of a type of clothing. Love of a type of beverage. Love of our favorite curse word. Love of God. Love of religion.

The list of loves is a very long list and it can go on and on and on. However, here is the funny thing: we really are careful about using the word. We never tell people that we love them enough. It is very odd you know. I mean we feel it but we hold it back; we keep it from people as if it is a gold ring they should come and get.

My theory is simple. I don't think that love starts until you bite the bullet and actually say the words. Yes, I know actions speak louder than words, and I would never say that people can't show love by actions, of course they can (a dog is a case and point - or a cat for those of you who love those (but that is another blog)).

Is it uncomfortable to say we love someone? HELL YES IT IS!!! It is extremely hard. If it was easy we would just say the word without any weight attached to it. However, times come when we feel it and we want to say it but we don't cause we think it would just be too weird, or the person we said it to would think we were strange. So much care into what the person woudl think.

I say don't care! Say the word, cause the fact of the matter is this. We can show love all day long and people can see it through our actions, but let's face it, sometimes words are just more powerful. They mean more cause we can all identify with the fact that it took courage to say them (cause it takes courage when WE want to say them.)

So I know this wasn't a deep blog but please take this away from this: BITE THE BULLET AND JUST TELL THE ONES YOU LOVE THAT YOU LOVE THEM!!! (And mean it, cause we always know.)

HOLES IN OUR SYSTEM

2010-01-06T07:21:00.000-08:00

So there is one thing about this blog I make an effort to refrain from discussing; my personal life. This is supposed to be a blog based on my ideas from my experiences. However, the recent experience I have had cannot pull the personal life from my thoughts at all.

I rang in the New Year with a bit of a heartbreak, the death of my first grandparent. I could go on and on about her, but that is not what this blog entry is about. However, I must say something about her and I can tell you that this woman knew how to believe in something and knew how to make people feel like they were not above or below her if they didn't agree. That is a remarkable fete that made her well loved and appreciated by people from both up the street and in her heart.

Considering this is the first funeral I have ever been to where I sat in the first couple of pews reserved for family, needless to say a lot of thoughts went through my head. None of them as strong as watching my grandfather during the week I was in Little Rock. This man spent 63 years married to this woman. I have seen the face of what true heartbreak is and it isn't a relationship that falls apart after a year or two. True heartbreak is watching someone you love move on without you, and since I love my grandfather my heart was breaking for him. It breaks now as I type these words.

I figure that when someone passes no matter what our belief of life after death, we are left with holes in our system. It is like a little piece of us has been taken with them. I felt that yesterday while looking at a picture of the family that I had to leave 17 hours away. I feel that my grandmother is has left several holes in my system. I think those holes get filled in though, and the way i picture it in my head is like this: picture just the outline of a body with holes in it like cheese. Now fill in everything around the holes. I think those holes get filled in with light. In my head I see light just bursting through those holes.

Now I don't know what this light is, I'm sorry to say. Maybe it is memory, maybe it is an odd mixture of happiness and sadness (cause that is what I feel.) I don' t know but in my head i just see holes filled with light, but there is definitely a piece of us that is missing, that isn't part of us anymore; and yet it still is a huge part of us. I hope that makes sense.

I know this isn't scientifically correct, but I come from the impression that my family is a part of me. Inside of me is 50% of my mother and 50%my father. Of that percentage 25% of me is everyone of my grandparents. They are with me at all times. Take that however your thoughts allow it to take you, maybe it is in spirit, maybe in blood, or just in the genes I carry with me at all times, but inside of me they are there and they are alwys prevelent.

They exist in the way I do my crosswords, they exist in the expressions I make (or the curse words I say), or the way I pull up my pants when they get too saggy. They exist in the way I use my fork, in the way I love poached eggs rather then scrambled, in the way I drive my car, in the way I sing constantly. They are there and there is no way to get them out of my inner self. I am proud to have part of them in there. I am proud that that light in those holes are shining through. However, I do not like that someone has to pass for you to see how truly deep those holes are.

I understand that as time goes on the outlook for everyone looks similar, we get old and we pass. However, without the death part, the life part doesn't hold any meaning. I think we should all realize where we come from and get to know our family (both blood and non-blood) and just love them for who they are (faults and all) because if we don't then the holes left within us will just be holes and there will be no light to shine through. Maybe the light that shines through is that part of us that is them.

FRIENDS & CELEBRITES

2009-09-29T07:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, so today on my way to work something struck me (no not another car). A thought struck me while I was on the phone. Through the conversation I was told that a friend of mine (not the one I was talking to) was leaving tomorrow for L.A. The only reason this person came up is because we workout with her on Tuesdays (today being Tuesday, of course, I inquired about the time to meet tonight.) I found out that she was going to L.A. and when I said, "I didn't know about this" the response was simply this, "It was on her facebook."

Last week one of my closest friends was having a party (far be it for me to not show up somewhere where there is alcohol.) This friend told me about it, but didn't have any information at the time. So when Friday rolled around, I needed to know the address of where we were going, and the response was, "It was on my facebook."

The point is this...facebook (and I do love my facebook), but facebook (or the sites similar) seem to be the way we are finding out about people. Now when I say "people" I don't mean the people you haven't seen for ten years, or the people you have just met overnight at some coffee bar on 4th Ave. I mean friends, people you know well; people you spend a great deal of your time with; family members even to some.

I think with every new addition to make the world smaller, we somehow find a way to make it big again and take away all of the work we have accomplished. I love facebook for the fact that we can keep in touch with the people that we don't have around as much anymore, and for that I am grateful that the world is getting smaller. However, with that power is coming consequences. We seem to be communicating to the people we know the most through facebook or texting, and we don't seem to be talking anymore. Our modern definition of communication is making the people who live far away close to us, but with this medium it is making the people who live next door farther from us.

Far be it for me to say this and not be a victim of it. I am guilty as everyone else of having God only knows how many texts per month (thank you unlimited text plan) and contacting people through the internet to meet them (thank you facebook chat; although you suck sometimes.) I am guilty of this just like everyone else.

However, this kind of communication process is both scary and exciting. We are reading up about our best friends as if they were some kind of celebrities; as if they were people that we don't really know, but instead people that we are living through. With every step closer to each other we are distancing ourself further from people.

We need to use this new technological power to our advantage, but at the same time we should be careful that this technology doesn't end up taking advantage of us. All I am saying, to myself as well, is that we should not give up facebook (Lord, I think I would cry for weeks), but instead take the time out to call the people you love, to TALK to the ones who mean something in your life. Let them know they love you.

Talking on the phone is the new writing a letter. You know that great feeling when you get a letter in the mail? The feeling that means that somebody has taken out the time to write out a note, to send it through the mail to you. That is now what talking on the phone is like....someone is taking out the time.

No facebook or text can compare with the power of the human voice. After all remember, the originals or anything are kind of hard to beat. So the original communications are better off not being lost just because technology made it easier.

THE ZOO

2009-09-14T10:25:00.000-07:00

So this weekend was $5 day at the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa. When I was told that a normally $20 charge was going down to $5, well who am I to pass up a deal to see caged animals for cheap? So the four of us going were just going about a typical day in the zoo. The talker was talking, the photographer was photographing, the smokers were smoking (and no i won't tell you which one I was; you can guess....okay I was the talker.)

Moving on. So there we were just staring at all of the animals. Watching the monkeys, thinking they were cute; watching the rhinos, thinking they were massive; watching the birds, and not thinking much. Well then the clouds opened up and rain came down in droves. The four of us ran to the nearest shelter we could possibly find. Well, what do you know, there we were in the home of my favorite animal ever, the white tiger.

All of a sudden we had no choice, unless we wanted to be drenched, but to sit and watch the tigers. We couldn't just walk and look and walk on; we wanted to be dry so we stayed under the shelter of the white tiger habitat. There was no other choice but to watch these proud creatures.

Fortunately, we had quite a playful little duo. There were two tigers that decided all of a sudden they wanted to play. There they went just splashing though the water, bringing paws to paws and attempting to bite (but as huge as they are, they just appeared like little puppies). They splashed through thier little pool that was being soaked in the water falling from the sky, but they were enjoying their time so much.

Then sitting on a stoop that was built for them was another white tiger. This one seemed so much more regal then the two smaller kittens. It was massive and just sitting on its roost like it owned the place. Sitting their nonchalantly with the slashes of black on it's white fur (kind of like their paw slashed paint over their body.)

This massive creature turned to face the window i was gawking through and he just stared; looked away, looked back, and just stared. He kept repeating this. As he did this (I say he, to be honest, wasn't really sure and wasn't going to check) I looked into the face of this tiger and I don't know what happened, but something struck me, and I started tearing up. There was beauty I had never stopped to notice before. I mean here was, what I consider to be, the most beautiful creature ever created, and there were these visuals I never stopped to look at before. I looked into the animals eyes, and how they were shaped. I couldn't go anywhere so I watched how the creatures slashed through the water playing. I was fixated when it started playing with this ball hanging from the stand that was created for them. I couldn't stop looking at the one just lying down. These were creatures that I love, but it felt as if I saw them for the first time.

This moment just got me thinking about all the other things that I may have missed at the zoo. Maybe there is something about the elephant that I missed because I stopped to look and then moved on to the giraffe. Maybe I missed something even more gorgeous then normal in the girffe becuase I stopped to look only to think about the zebra in the area next to him.

As a culture we don't really stop to appreciate the natural things in life that exist around us. We think the sunset is gorgeous, but we never stop and sit and stare and literally watch it fall behind the horizon. We stop to look at it, think about it's beauty, and then go on about our lives. We never actually stop and APPRECIATE these things.

The world is getting more and more fast-paced (even at the zoo you are, in a way, kind of maneuvered through as if it was a nature based IKEA). We don't stop to appreciate the things that man had no control over creating.

The sun; the moon, the stars; the flowers; the breeze; the animals; the ocean; the smiles; ourselves. We don't overlook any of these things. We know they exist, I mean we would have to be complete baffoons to not know they exist; but we really don't ever take the time to appreciate them for ourselves.

Beauty is all around us, it basically inhabits every square inch of where we live. But as I stop to think about the subject, I don't know a single building that is so amazing that it beats the view of a sunset lighting up a horizon. I don't know of a single work of art that is so breathtaking that it can take away those split seconds when that proud white tiger glanced in my direction.

We have to cherish these moments. They are free. They are breathtaking. They are natural. They are there for us to view. I mean what have you got to lose except time? Of course when you ponder that statement, what is time anyway? What is all this nautral beauty when put against time, after all that is man-made.

Ready for Change

2009-06-30T03:12:00.000-07:00

I have been a very bad person (not like that), with regard to keeping up with my blog. In fact, looking at the date of my last entry, I have been a despicable person at keeping up with my blog. So many ideas have entered my head within the last six months that I have been dying to write about, but a horrible excuse like laziness set in (or it was a good reason like time restraints). Either way, the fact of the matter is that I have been craving to write many more entries, and yet I have not been doing it. WELL, NOT ANYMORE!

I woke up this morning at 5a.m. and I just knew I had to write something. Do you know how you wake up and you can't remember what you were dreaming about, but you are left with the remnants of an emotion and you don't know where it came from? Well, that was this morning. For some reason I woke up with this tightening feeling in the pit of my gut that felt like an indication of change coming. I had this odd feeling like everything I know is about to get up-ended, in a good way. Hey, change is frightening no matter what, and I kind of teared up thinking about the thought of change from my normal routine.

I turned 30 about a two weeks ago, and even though 30 is still a young age, at the same time there is something mile-stoneish (yeah I made up a word) about the number. The other day I said, "You know in my 30 years..." and you know what? It felt good. I felt wiser, I felt like I had an authority of some kind. I don't know why, but I felt, "I am no longer in my 20's, I can now say that I have lived a bit."

I think I am ready for change (where I wasn't before) becuase I know myself more now then I ever have in the past. I know who I am, and I have to admit I like myself. I have learned that if you are proud of who you are on the inside, and you love that person a lot, then it doesn't matter what job you have, or what mistakes you have made, becuase in the end you are happy to be with yourself, and you better like yourself cause it is the one piece of company you can't get rid of.

I am ready for change because I know what qualities I possess, and I understand the ones I lack (or don't really excel at). I know how to use the qualities I possess in order to try and develop and enhance the qualities I don't have as strong a handle on yet.

I think when you start getting those mixture of excited and scared feelings, I think you are ready to tackle change. It means you are wanting it, but you are not going to rush into any decisions.

This may not be like the other blog entries with any kind of philosophical discussion. This is more personal. I look around at people all the time, and I am more observant then people think I am. I watch, and I pay attention. People are not happy with themselves. We don't take the time we need to develop ourselves, we are too busy trying to gain. We are spending so much time improving our outside or what we have so that people can perceive us how we want them to. We think those are the ways to improv how we feel about ourselves....how others perceive you is not how you perceive you.

I am happy to say that I am going to be doing more blog entries now (thank God I got an idea and wrote it down). I am also proud to say that my advancement in life is inevitable, becuase I am going to work hard for my personal change, and just hope that that will motivate people to change themselves. Crazy thought, but who is up for the challenge? :)

Thanks for waiting for me to write again guys.

A Quick Thought for the New Year

2008-12-31T04:46:00.000-08:00

I was thinking about something the other day and I just wanted to share with anyone reading. We are heading into a very tough financial time in this world's history. Money is going to be tight. Our emotions and our spirits are going to be tested. We are going to have to struggle to prove to ourselves that we are capable of surviving this crisis (and we will prove it to ourselves.)

However, in times like this, appropriately, our survival mode goes into hyperactive. We start to worry about ourselves. We fight for more money (becuase we are in need of it for the bills), and we also want to make ourselves feel better so we try to take mini-vacations or we do activities that make us smile or laugh. These things are all important, there is no doubt, we should want to accomplish these goals. However, I don't necissarily agree that in times like these that this way of thinking should be our main focus.

I think that instead of taking more mentality, we should be giving more. I think that this is the time to show the deepness of the human spirit. See when we are looking out for numero uno then that is one person caring about one person. However, if people start trying to give more and looking out for others more, then what happens is that now we have many people looking out for us, as we are looking out for them. Our odds to succeed are better, we have more people in our corner. In return, they have more people in their corner.

Maybe it is a pipe dream to some people, but John Lennon said in Imagine, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." Here is the funny thing about pipe dreams; people all believe in pipe dreams. Everyone thinks pipe dreams are two things, amazing thoughts and unattainable thoughts. Isn't that funny? We all agree with them, but we don't think it will ever happen. So if we all agree then why is it an impossibility?

So here is my challenge to myself and to anyone reading this (even if we are 8 strong), when times get tough (and let's not kid ourselves, times are going to get tough) then we start giving more, we start thinking of others more, and we start providing more. The funny thing, no matter what you can to make you smile when times are tough, nothing goes as deep to the heart and soul as giving to those who are needing that protection. Not one thing is as permanant as that feeling.

Happy New Year, and I hope all your resolutions turn into realities. :)

Emotional Food Groups Pt. 1

2008-12-11T05:40:00.000-08:00

I have a theory about emotions. I believe that all emotions that we can feel fall under four major categories: Happiness, Sadness, Fear, and Anger. Every other feeling live under varying degrees of these four. For example, jealousy (anger), depression (sadness), paranoia (fear), etc. However with all the emotions in the world I think that there is only one that doesn't belong to any one category: Love.

Though some emotions may cross lines with one of the four emotions above (I.E. Greed: fear and happiness or jealousy: fear and anger), no single emotion is able to cross all four categories such as love. Love is all of those things, sometimes at once. (But we'll save that for another blog)

Imagine this: happiness, sadness, fear and anger are the four food groups. You need every single one of those in your life in order to challenge, develop, or even relax yourself.

Just like the food groups, you cannot be truly healthy by seperating them. For example, how can you truly know how thrilling that soccor game win is if you have never lost those four in a row? How can you know how beautiful life can really be, until you have touched the edge of death? How thrilling can that lottery win be, if you have never had a single day of struggle?

Just like the four food groups, if you have too much of one food, then you are not giving your body the nutrients it needs in order to sustain a healthy daily life. Have you ever notice how annoyed we get when we are around a person who feels only one of those emotions all the time? It grates our nerves. Think about people you know who are alwasys sad, always angry, always scared, or always happy even (sometimes they seem to be the most frustrating.)

However, on the opposite side of the token if we don't have enough of one emotion it can be detremental to our well being. Think about those people who hold in that anger (I tend to be this person) and they never let it out until something very small and tiny has happened and then it is turns into World War III? Holding that anger inside of you and not letting it out in small ammounts creates this well of anger that we usually let out in one inappropriate gesture.

What about holding in sadness? If we hang on to sadness we tend to cover it up with happiness. But then that moment comes when the straw breaks the camels back (and usually it is something tiny) and we just let it all out in one fell swoop, and it takes us by storm, and we delve into a depression.

I think it's funny that of these four emotions sadness and anger are similar, and happiness and fear tend to be similar.

Why is that? Well, happiness and fear are emotions where if we live in them there is no way to grow. We don't become more complex or more intelligent people when we are feeling happy, if we are not careful we can become complacent. However, with fear, if all of you feel is fear then you never venture out into the world,and if you never venture you can't grow. The way you learn from fear is fighting to get out of it, after all that is how you begin to realize how strong you can actually be. On the same token, the way to overcome happiness is to not use it as a cover up for sadness and anger, you have to allow yourself to feel those two emotions.

With sadness and anger, they are similar because growth happens while you are in the midst of feeling those emotions. With sadness we learn as we are crying and feeling that pain in our heart. With anger, we are realize what we are willing to take while expressing ourselves through our voice, through our words, through our actions of dealing with that anger.

I think sometimes, the answer that seems the most practical isn't always the most obvious. We always want to cover the "bad" emotions with happiness. However, by not allowing ourselves to show that anger, sadness, or fear we are doing emotional damage to ourselves.

To go back to the four food groups: If we ignore fruit, we rob ourselves of the sugar our bodies need. If we ignore vegetables, we rob ourselves of the iron that our body needs. If we ignore meat, we rob ourselves of the protein that our body needs. If we ignore dairy, we rob ourselves of the calcium that our body needs.

When it comes to emotions we cannot deny ourselves a single one. They are vital to our emotional health. However, if those four emotions equal the four food groups then love is the chart that holds them all together.

I guess that must mean a Pt. II :)

Foundations

2008-12-06T06:27:00.000-08:00

I was talking on facebook earlier today with a former journalism teacher of mine. I don't know how the subject was broached (with me, I rarely know how a subject comes up at all.) However, we began talking about blessings and how we tend to take them for granted a lot of the time. The word blessings has a religious conotation to it, but by blessings, I just mean the really heart enriching things in life.

I think what is going on in the world is that we are becoming a society obsessed with "things." We all want to spend money on things, and possess them either to say we have them or to show off. We don't really stop and think about the "THINGS" we have that actually do matter; the effects that make life truly enjoyable from its core.

You know when you build a house, you can't erect it if you don't have the foundation to do so; it would collapse in on itself. I have concluded that understanding our "blessings" follows the same concept. I think that people nowadays are building the house, but they have no idea what is holding the structure up.

We purchase the Wii (I want one), the ipod, or some new gadget that has just been created to make our life "so much simpler". (And to be honest, I don't know what I would do without the ipod). We are buying all these fancy "blessings" that are fashioning the house. However, the house is in danger of falling unless we understand the simple structure underneath that makes all those things worthwhile.

Things as simple as family; the ability to just talk and conversate and play around with your loved ones. Things as simple as time; the right to take that second or two and just appreciate the silence. Things as simple as breathing; how often do we underestimate the power of our chest moving in and out? Things as simple as thinking; the ability to dwell on ideas and then getting to express those ideas out loud.

The dilemma is complex, but the answer is simple. (Funny how often that is the case, isn't it.) I have seen the foundation of a house first hand (my father is a brick layer) and let me tell you something, there is nothing extraordinary about it. It is a bunch of blocks that are mudded together on a concrete slab. It is a very simplistic look with not much to it. However, what that "simplistic" foundation is capable of is impressive. That elementary foundation can hold up a house that shelters a family of four and keeps them safe from violent thunderstorms and tornadoes or from the churning wind that rattles windows, it provides a safe place from the outside world and burglers and people who want to destroy a person's self-pride. The list can go on and on with what a foundation can do, but without it, the house will fall and we will be left without all of those things, including the simple ones, becuase we never took the time to build that foundation.

So maybe we should all do that, sit down and make a list of the things that we truly own in life: the family, the time, the friends, the breath, etc. Nothing should involve money (that is what you use to make the house flashy). On that list place the things that make us feel good at our core. Those things in life that prove that if you took away every single possession away, life would still be worth living. It would still be worth it to get up every day, because we know the materials that make up our foundation.

Keep this in mind, when you see a tornado or a hurricane ravage a home and tear it up from the floor to the roof, what is the one thing that never blows away? For those of you who can't figure it out....it would be the foundation. Chew on that thought for a while.

Hugs Vs. Kisses

2008-12-01T05:37:00.001-08:00

Last night I had a very special discussion about the difference between hugs and kisses and which of the two hold the most power. Not like a "I have a power over you power" but a power that says which of the two ways of showing emotion is the most effective. I think I have come to the conclussion that the strength that a hug provides trumps that of kissing.

I don't mean to undermine the the beauty of a kiss. Let's face it, kissing is very calming and relaxing and it accompanies with it a sense of enjoyment and happiness. However, kisses don't always come frolicking hand-in-hand with safety.

Put yourself in this situation: Let's say that you have had a horrible day; almost to the point of tears...you come home and you there is a person you love (not necissarily a husband or a lover, maybe a friend or a family memeber). On days that are cold and bitter like that, we do not run up to that person and give them a huge kiss. At that moment, you don't want to engage in a kissing session; you want to be hugged! You want to be held! You want to know that you have someone there to connect with!

There is a reason for that! There is a safety in a hug that you don't get when you are kissed. There is an ability to know that the person holding you at that moment is on your side and going to stand with you through the tough time. A kiss just doesn't always provide that same potential. Do me a favor, go through your life and think about the times that you felt helpless, and what do you see you craved in that moment? (Other then chocolate, ice cream or clothes?) You wanted to be hugged or held or touched. Someone providing words just doesn't bestow the same well of feelings you get when you are held in a silent embrace.

When we are feeble babies, we are quieted knowing that we are in someone's arms. A mother or father can have their frustrations muted simply by picking up that baby and cradling it in their arms. A moment as simplistic as holding a baby, can make us feel like we can conquer the problems that plague us.

Now think back to when someone you love (relationship, friendship, family, etc.) is leaving from a vacation to see you, or they're heading out on a plane to go on a business trip, or maybe they're just heading home for the night. What, in that moment of departure, do we usually do as human beings? Well if it is a relationship or culturally acceptable, we can kiss them. However, even in that situation, the kiss is never the thing we leave doing. The kiss is the preemptive action to what? THE HUG!

Why do we do that? If you ask a million people they would tell you how much they love the kiss, and I could easily be counted in amongst those people. I love feeling that unparalelled enjoyment and pleasure that a kiss indulges. However, think of the emotions you have when you crave to be kissed.....now think of the emotions you have when you crave to be hugged.

Kissing just doesn't offer the same safety that hugging offers. So here is my challenge to whoever is reading this blog. We are becoming a nation (or a world even) that is beginning to feel like we are out there alone, we are not feeling safe (despite that through the internet the world is getting smaller.) My challenge is that we try to hug more (not strangers of course that would be just weird....or maybe strangers, I don't know whatever is comfortable). Go out and when you see someone who is in pain or who is having a bad day or who just is a little down from the pressures of the world. Don't just talk to them. Words only have power when you have the ability to back them up with actions. You have to help people understand that you are going to be there for them through every step of that pain or bad day or sadness. Give them a hug! Help them feel safe, knowing that when it is your turn to need to feel sheltered, you are going to want that same safety that you get with a simple hug!

ALL ABOUT ME

2008-11-18T04:41:00.000-08:00

A while ago I wrote a poem to help people understand my way of thinking. Following my thoughts is not always an easy thing to do if I am not editing my thoughts. The poem tells you a lot about who I am as a person and the background I come from. I am not going to use this blog to post nothing but poems. However, I figured there would be nothing better as a first blog post then to tell a bit about me, and what you can expect from Thinking Sideways.

ALL ABOUT ME

So you want to know
All about me
Well, in brief
Here is a list of pointless facts about me:

I've got blue eyes
I've got ghetto lips
I've got a receding hairline.
I'm not small.
I'm not big.
In fact, I'm rather hot.

I've got a ten-and-a-half size shoe
I wear elevens because ingrown toenails run in my family
And I hear that bigger shoes prevent that.
I've had one ingrown toenail in my life.
I've had surgery on that toe so that it wouldn't grow back.
My brother watched as they performed the surgery,
He said it "was cool".
He's weird.

My cousin has had sixteen ingrown toenails.
His shoes fit perfectly.
I'll stick to the bigger shoes.

I have fifteen first cousins,
Fourteen boys and one girl.
She's a tomboy.
I have a brother.
I have a sister-in-law.
I like her, she's alright.
I tell her she made the wrong choice of brother,
And in her words she says, "I know, but you wouldn't do me much good."
I have a dad.
He's from Lubbock, Texas.
I have a mother.
She's from Cleveland, Ohio.
They've been married over thirty years.
They are old, but I love them.
My dad's family is Irish.
My mom's family is Canadian.
They all now live in Little Rock, Arkansas.
Don't ask, long story.

So that would make me part Irish and part Canadian.
Therefore, I was doomed to be a very, very, very pale person.
I also was doomed to be a very witty drunk.
I have my dad's Irish alcoholic love,
And my mother's Canadian alcoholic tolerance.
I begin floating at about two drinks.

My dad's family says words like, "ya'll" and "ain't"
My mother's family says words like "eh" and "aboot."
They make for very interesting conversations.

I have one Mexican uncle.
I have one ex-Mexican uncles.
And when I say Mexican I mean they are from Mexico...
And not Puerto Rico, Cuba, El Salvador, or Nicaragua
Or any other country south of Texas -
Except the country of Mexico.
I have on Asian uncle.
I had one black uncle ( may he rest in peace.)
I have one half-Mexican cousin.
One half-black cousin.
And three half-Asian cousins.
So needless to say at family reunions my family is like a package of Skittles.
Taste the rainbow.

In conclusion, I love my family.
And in a poem about me
They need mentioning.
They made me.
They are me.
They're everything to me.
But this isn't their poem
So let's get back to me.

I like writing.
Duh! Why would I be writing this?
I love words.
My favorite words are
Kumquat
And
Toilet.
I think they're funny.
I do not like the words
Duty
Or
Masticate.
I think they're dirty.

I love rhyming words
This poem, however, doesn't rhyme.
Don't ask!
I don't know why it doesn't!
If I could explain me I would.
I can't so I won't.
I'm inexplainable
Or unexplainable
I don't know which - I'll look it up later!

Or I'll probably just say I will
And won't.

I can procrastinate sometimes
"Why put off till tomorrow what you can do today?"
Because I can do it - tomorrow.

I love board games.
I love Scatagories, Taboo, Monopoly
But my favorite,
My tip-top, number one
Favorite game of all time is:
SCRABBLE!
That's right - Scrabble!
And I'm still in my 20's.

I'm competitive!
I want to win!
I won't spell the word "seize"
When I can wait for the word "seizure."
I spelled that word once
On a triple word score;
While using the "s" to spell another word across.
That's right1
I'm good!
I'm damn good!

I'm a gracious loser!
I'm a sore winner!

I adore crossword puzzles!
I also like prunes!

I really don't know why those two words remind me of each other.
I got problems.
You know what!?!
Sometimes I eat prunes WHILE i do crossword puzzles.
I think prunes taste good!
As do brussel sprouts
And rice cakes
And tofu
And sunflower seeds.

Sometimes I can be lazy
I eat the sunflower shell because I don't want to have to separate
The shell from the seed.
I don't eat crabs, lobster, or crawfish:
It's just too much work for the meat I get.
It's a waste of my time.

Kind of like T.V.
Good TV doesn't exist anymore.
And if it does they take it off the air.
My favorite show is ALL IN THE FAMILY.
No, I wasn't alive when it was on.
I love ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, 30 ROCK, THE OFFICE
And LOST!
I LOVE LOST!
Although I admit I've been lost sometimes while watching it.

I love good writing.
I love bad writing.
So then I guess I just love writing.
My favorite books are "Catcher in the Rye"
"The Giving Tree" and
"Oh, the Places You'll Go!"
I love Dr. Seuss!

My favorite movies are
Forest Gump
Almost Famous
Adventures in Babysitting
Clue and
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
(The old one - the new one just creeped me out)

And then there is music.
Music is everything to me.
It is what I listen to no matter my mood.
Stevie Wonder is my favorite.
Billy Joel is my favorite.
I also like Elton John, Sheryl Crow,
Alanis Morisette, Tina Turner, Santana,
Diana Ross, Marvin Gaye, Cyndi Lauper
Madonna, Meatloaf
And the Spice Girls.
It's true!
I really, really, really wanna Zig-a-zia-ah!

I love Harry Potter.
But then again, so does everyone else.

I love the theater.
I love plays!
I love musicals!
I love Shakespeare!
You get the point1

I'm intelligent!
I know how to express myself!
I have soap boxes!
Some are really, really, really, really, really high!
I'll try not to step on any of those in this poem.

I think in very odd ways.
My dad says that I THINK SIDEWAYS.
He says some people think towards the future.
Some people dwell on the past.
And then there is me,
I see an object and morph it into a million different things.
Therefore, I think sideways.

I love the teaching part of my job!
I put smiles on a face that didn't want to!
I put hope in kids that felt they had none!
I put fun in learning about writing!
I make kids come out of shells made of steel!

I learn from them more then they learn from me!
I go home tired,
But I go home happy:
Extremely happy!
As I read through this poem I realize
That there is no way to sum me up completely:
But I can do my best summation of me by saying this:

I am intelligent!
I am fun!
I am funny!
I am loveable!
I am adorable!
I am crazy!
I am random!
I am unique!
I am me!
And I like me!