Table Of Contents

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

no. 053 [beyond the yellow brick road: my scarecrow...]


"S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W" by My Chemical Romance


"Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves -
regret for the past and fear of the future."
-Fulton Oursler

move your body when the sunlight dies
everybody hide your body from the scarecrow
everybody hide...


I think I think too much. Seriously, I'm pretty sure I've started a blog off with that line already, but I don't care. I'm going with it. Honestly, I think that fear is all in our minds. We give things so much importance, so much meaning, so much power, that in our minds they become so fragile, so dominant, so scary, yet in real life they aren't. I'm not sure if I'm making any sense whatsoever, but I will try my best to decipher the meanings here.

I've often described a battle between my head and my heart within my blogs. Well, since I've written one about 'my missing part' I thought it would be appropriate to write one about the other side of the coin.

If I only had a brain...but sometimes ignorance is bliss. You see, once you start to think of things, really think of things, you start to think about the good, the bad, the best case scenarios, the worst case scenarios, then it spirals out of control until you are paralyzed, looking at what it is that you fear from a distance, too afraid to even get close to it. The fear blankets the very existence of said person, place, or thing, until it is nothing more than a dark shadow pushed far way in the distance, looming over the horizon, towering over a land unexplored like a protector. The very thoughts you thunk up yourself, culminated into this thing, object, persona, or vortex of doom that you have given this sense of character to, that in reality is no more than just another thought.

move your body when the sunlight dies
everybody hide your body from the scarecrow
everybody hide...


The mind is a terrible thing to waste, especially when you start to second guess everything that you have come up with. Instead all these wonderful thoughts have become 'what ifs', and 'can I really's?' The fear cripples us, as we stay back, staring at it from afar, hoping that one day it will be toppled down by the wind. But then a day comes when you can't wait, you can't wonder what if anymore, and you lose your thoughts, and walk up to it.

love, love, love won't stop this
love, love, love won't stop this
love, love, love won't stop this


Its funny, because in a way I think the only thing that can stop fear is fear itself; well, fear and love, or love induced fear. It's when you become so fearful of losing that person, place, or thing; so fearful that you'll miss out, that if you don't do something soon it'll be too late, that's when that fear doesn't seem so scary anymore.

It's once you just stop thinking for a second and face your fear, walk up to it, you'll realize that what you have been afraid of has been in your mind the entire time. Silk and straw, nothing more, nothing less. The thing you feared the most made up of your own thoughts perched up there smiling back at you. You're very own scarecrow...

Friday, November 19, 2010

no. 052 [the blame game...]


"Blame Game" by Kanye West (Feat. John Legend)

It's so weird to be where I am now. I never thought it would get to this point. Actually, I never wanted it to get to this point, that seems more realistic. I hate feeling like this is a never ending cycle, because in reality it isn't. It's this unbearable back and forth, I love you, I hate you, this tug and pull that isn't getting us anywhere. Yet we continue to play this blame game.

I wrote a rhyme the other day, with the intent of posting it, hoping that she would read it. But the more I thought about it the more I was doubting myself, and doubting that the real message would get across, hidden behind semi-hateful words. Words that didn't call her names, or put the blame on her, but expressed my frustrations. I'm tired of playing the blame game. Blaming myself, blaming you, blaming the timing. Looking for a reason for why we're here.

Going off on one another, how did we come this far from where we were? Anything but us is who we are. I don't get it. How can love be this hard? Writings, back and forth, words that we're too afraid to speak, conveying our love, our hate, our uncertainty, about one another. Real feelings trying to break the surface. Yet every time I try I feel pushed away. And now I don't even know when to try, or even if I should. It's ironic, because I want nothing more than to be that person for her. That person to fill that spot that I once stood in, the one to hold her, kiss her, and tell her everything that she wants to hear, because it's everything that I want to tell her. Truer words have never been spoken, now faded away because of fear.

I know it's stupid to think that love shouldn't be this hard, because who the hell am I kidding, it is. Love isn't supposed to be easy, it's supposed to be worth it. And if it truly is worth it you have to fight for it, and hold on to it, until you can fight no longer, or until your arms are ripped out of their sockets. And even after that, you better get it in a scissor hold, because you can't, CAN'T let it slip away. Even though it may seem like it, I never let go.

I guess I just don't know the right time to let go, and mostly I didn't want to. The realism in it is that you weren't perfect, but to me you were, and you made life worth it. Now, it just seems like a game of tip toeing around the truth, talking to each other when the dust has settled, just to kick it back up again. But why? Is it induced by the fear? Or have we really grown that far apart?

I'm tired of playing the blame game. I'm tired of looking for excuses, or an answer. And to be honest, I'm growing tired of holding on, and fighting, because it's no longer me fighting for our love, it's me fighting you. At least that's what it seems like. I hope to God that I'm wrong.

I'm tired of this one way street, so now I'm standing up, standing in that light, shaking that cage, breaking down those walls, and every metaphor ever used. I'm not Superman. He's dead and gone. I can't save you, as much as I want to, but all I can be is me, and promise to love you unconditionally, the way I've always wanted to. So this is me, being honest, saying the words I've been terrified to say, sounding like a broken record, but I don't care, I just want to get my message across. I love you, and things may, hell, will be different this time around. We've grown up so much in the past year, things can't go back to the way they used to be, but that doesn't mean that they can't be better. But the only way for this to work is to try.

And I know, here we are, back again, asking you, and I have a feeling that I'm gonna get the same answer, that you can't, you're not ready, and I understand, partially. There are so many questions left unanswered. But the biggest one for me is why? Writings conveying a love lost, and a want to get it back, topped off with an "I can't right now." And I partially get it. I do. But just know that I never stopped trying.

There are many things I still have left to learn about love, but the one thing that I do know is that it's never too late. It's never too late to fight for it, never too late to speak up for it, and it's never too late to try. Ultimately only time will tell, but as long as I have the will, I'll fight, I'll speak out, and I'll hold on. Because even though we may have changed, and things may have changed, the one thing that stayed the same is that I still love you.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

My Secret Public Journal, Entry #005: Sweet Disposition

So, at the suggestion of a friend/classmate I decided to make these journal-esk writings that don't sum up into a central theme laced with ambiguity and a cheesy song playing in the background. Instead I'll just free-write about whatever strikes me...complete with a little lacing of ambiguity...and a cheesy song playing in the background. I call it My Secret Public Journal.

Love & Waffles,
Ant

ps: don't sue me Mike Birbiglia



"Sweet Disposition (Acoustic)" by Ellie Goulding

I woke up today knowing exactly what today meant. I think I've used that line before, but for the sake of this writing it fits, and I don't care if I'm repetitive, as long as I'm not being redundant. But I digress, for some reason curiosity got the best of me today, as I found myself journeying down a long twisted hallway I vowed never to walk again, but this time it was different. It wasn't for me, yet it was at the same time. I knew what I would see when I got there, I just knew it, but I wanted to, and in a way had to see it for myself. And as always, there it was, the empty chair. Her empty chair. Sitting there in the group, untouched, left open, as if it were claimed, or as if she were running late or something. I'm not sure how many people realized what that chair or today meant, but I knew what they meant.

I stayed with the group for a bit, staring empty yet full glances at that chair. Thinking about how much the girl that used to fill that seat has changed me, inspired me, and in more ways than one saved me from myself. In this cliche', sugarcoated room of happy and positive thoughts that in reality meant nothing I was able to find a friend. A friend that got me, got what I was going through, and never, ever judged me for it, even when she saw me at my worst.

So I sat there staring at the chair, thinking to myself how short a year has been. Because it felt like just yesterday that I was sitting in this very chair, looking over at her, and making faces at her whenever someone said something dumb or silly. Or how I would constantly check my phone for a text message from her asking me what I wanted to do after this was done. I knew I wasn't going to have anyone to make funny faces to, or to get a text from this time, but I couldn't let go of the habit of constantly checking my phone.

When I left I felt a bit of sadness, yet I couldn't. Even though the game was ended by her own hand, I knew deep in my heart that she was happier now. And as she said, "no life that touches another is ever held in vain." And even though she was only in my life for a very short time, I will carry the lessons I have learned from her with me, and will always call her a friend.

While everyone else may have forgotten, or pretended to have, I won't, and can't. So I glanced once more at that empty chair, trying to hold back my tears, made a funny face, and imagined her smiling at me, like she always has.

I'll see you again one day, Ellie. Until then, thank you. I will never, ever forget you.

For Sure...



On a bathroom wall I wrote:
"I'd rather argue with you than to be with someone else"


The Blame Game
11.19.2010

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Let's Play...



Things used to be; now they not.
Anything but us is who we are.

The Blame Game
Coming Soon

Saturday, November 13, 2010

no. 051 [my question mark 2...]


"Close Your Eyes" by Young Love

I've had a lot of time to think about the past, and the future respectively. I guess it kind of goes against how I usually think, keeping my mind in the present moment, but I can't really help it. I think I've honestly been able to let go of the past by looking at it for what it was, and will hopefully never be again (well, at least the negative parts). But I can't help but let my mind wander off and think about what is yet to come.

I like to think that there is no such thing as coincidence. I am a very firm believer that all things happen for a reason. I know I've said that a million times, but it still stands true. There has to be a reason for this. There has to be.

Right now I am happy where I am as far as this is concerned. And yes, I am going to be extremely vague. I miss that writing style, and I am trying another shot at it. I guess its mostly because it's always been there for me. I've always been able to rely on it, feel comfortable with it, and be myself around it. I guess I'm using my writing style as a metaphor, in more ways than one.

I like being back in the flow of things, even if I'm not quite used to it. I guess after using other styles of writing it's a difficult transition to go back to how it used to be, but in a way I feel that it's a necessary one. Maybe my writing won't be exactly what it used to be...maybe it will be better. I'm not sure, but only time will tell.

I guess the point of all of this is that sometimes you have to try, even if you're uncertain, have your doubts, are worried about what other people will think, or even if you're terrified that by taking a step back you won't be moving forward; but the only wrong decision is indecision. The future is unpredictable, which is why I've been thinking about it. I'm trying to stay hopeful that this will all work out, but I can't, nor should I expect something, because if it doesn't come true the way I could imagine it, I don't think I can manage the pain, therefore I won't get my hopes up, but will still wish for the best, without planning it out. Therefore I need to keep my mind in the present moment, but look every now and again for what's around the bend.

I am giving this writing style another chance mostly because it's reliable, comforting, and because I have missed it, missed it's feel, it's character, and overall the way it makes me feel. And I know, I'm not really all that great at writing in metaphors, but honestly, after everything that's happened, I'm glad to be where I am, and I can't help but think of what is yet to come. I guess I'm being a little optimistic, and would be lying if I said that I wasn't open to the idea of writing like this from now on. Once again, I know I'm horrible at hiding this, but after everything, she still intrigues me, she still throws me for a loop, and she can still leave a smile on my face by doing the simplest things.

In many ways she is still my question mark, and I'll be damned if I let what others think get in the way of trying to figure her out. Don't fight something if it feels right, no matter what it may be. If it makes you happy, or if they make you happy, then go for it. Right now may not be the best time for me to try, but at least I'm making my feelings obvious, in the most vague way possible. But she'll get it. She always has.

*Written in early October 2010

Friday, November 12, 2010

You Weren't Perfect But You Made Life Worth It...



Stick around, some real feelings might surface.



Let's play the blame game...

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

no. 050 [RED]



"Let Go" by Tinie Tempah (Feat. Emeli Sandé)

If you can see me,
then you're probably a little too close.
So you think you could love me,
well you gotta be stronger than most.
'Cause my ex didn't like it, didn't like it.
No my friends they don't like it, they don't like it.
Somebody remind me,
when's the right time,
when's the right time to let go?


This is the anger inside me manifested into something real, something I can see, something I can hate besides myself. Yet, it's a part of who I have become. An afterthought of what is said and done. A part of me I'll never want back, once it's fully gone. He is part of me. A part that I had a hand in creating, whether I'd like to admit it or not.

Red, that's what I call him. The hate that manifests due to a chemical imbalance. The cause for excuse after excuse. An excuse for excuses...but is that an excuse? It's not one that I intend to use. The other side of the coin is someone I've learned to control, but the fire is unpredictable. Too much to handle is what it is. A run-in artist I can't catch, picking his spots for attack, calculated and evil. Yet he's grown from me.

It's my own private war, and my mind is the battlefield. And here I fight while keeping my eye on something else, hoping for the best. My biggest flaw is not knowing when to let go. Is he a friend or foe? Is it my intuition, or my conscience telling me that it's time to move on, that it's time to let go? Do I see the actions as malicious because they contradict what I want and how I feel? I wonder as he pulls me away, my grip strong, hanging on to what I once had, but may never have again. His attempts to flaw my plans only set me back, because I'm too stubborn to quit.

His attempts are futile. He may have the other side sitting in a corner, but me, the real me, I'm too hard-headed to settle. It needs to bite me on the ass before I learn my lesson. So for now I rage on with this war, stuck here in limbo with my inner thoughts.

I look to the left and all I see is a broken shell of a man that I've learned to manipulate, learned to control. The other side of the coin...the boy with a coin. Flipping away his dreams, leaving it all to chance, because he's too afraid to try. But it's always heads...the all knowing, the dominant...the red.

Bullied into that corner, he fears the fire more than anything else. His mortal enemy. An ironic statement, a metaphor, fire and water, but the boiling continues, instead of the fire being put out. Red wins every time, leaving destruction in his path for the boy with a coin to deal with later. Little boy Blue, alone in the corner, flipping, flipping, flipping.

Opposites, entwined into an evil monster, my monster. My own worst enemy. But the one thing they have in common, other than their insurmountable fear of letting me take back control, is that they both need to go. While I have learned from them, channeled them, been them, I have also created them. And now, I must destroy that which I have created in my mind. It's time...it's the right time...it's time to let go.