Monday, February 23, 2009

A Play In Five Acts

Thought #1 "The Introduction":

What do I truly hope for in life? For what reason do I do the things I do? For the future, or the present? I'm acting like I have a projected outcome, like I have goals, but I don't.

Thought #2 "The Explanation":

Last summer, I was living in my parents house. I worked at my dad's produce store, I was a part of an amazing church community, and I spent most of my time with some really great friends. For some reason, I wanted to move back to Nampa. Actually, four reasons.

1. I had a girlfriend at the time, and she lived in Idaho.

2. I was almost sure I would get a job I applied for in Idaho that would start at the end of summer.

3. I had lived in my parents house and worked for my dad before I went to college, and when I went back to the same house and job after four years, it almost negated my degree.

4. I had friends in Idaho that I wanted to spend another year with before they all went on with their lives.

I've lived in Idaho since the middle of August, and in one way or another, each of my four reasons has either fallen short or failed to materialize.

1. Things didn't work out. Actually, they ended mutually two weeks before I moved.

2. I didn't get the job. I moved anyway. The same job opened again in December. I also didn't get that job, making it three times I'd been turned down for the same job.

3. I realized that my desire to move wasn't so much linked to working for my dad, but living with my parents. If I moved back to Portland, I could still work at Spicer Brothers just as long as I lived elsewhere.

4. I've been able to spend time with the friends I moved here for, but they are going their own way now. Even new friends I've made since August are moving on in a couple months.

Thought #3 "The Empty Hopelessness":

(I wrote the first two thoughts an hour ago, and now I'm back to finish. I'm not in the same mood. I often write what's on mind, but the trouble with that is my mind is constantly wrong. I second-guess myself. Why would anyone want to hear me whine about why I don't like Idaho? Or, on that same note, why would anyone want to read my blog at all? Maybe people are searching for connection. Aren't we all? In an ideal world, I would love for you to find a connection with me, but any connection wouldn't reap many benefits. You won't be a better person by finding a connection with me; I'll bring you down. Not because I'm depressed, or I have low self-esteem. No, it's because I'm a dreamer, a hoper, a man of faith, a lover who is starting to realize that reality makes no room for people like me. That this world wants to accept the finer things of life, but doesn't give them any room to grow. Like a cup of tea steeped for two seconds, or a person wanting better education, not willing to pay taxes. I am stifled and misunderstood. As far as I'm concerned, this world has nothing for me, but that doesn't mean for me what I would like it to. At least not yet.)

Thought #4 "The Brutal Honesty": 

I want to write, but I can't find the motivation.

I have thoughts in my mind that won't allow themselves to be formed to words.

I have love to give.

I know what it is to hurt and to have joy, but I haven't found the secret to staying away from one and keeping the other.

I can be confident, but it's a front.

I can be sensitive, but it's mostly fake.

I love to ask questions, but only so you can ask me when you're finished answering.

I get jealous.

I get lonely.

I love to laugh.

I connect with decade-old books more than people my own age lately.

I am so bored.

Thought #5 "The Happy, Although Still Unsure Ending":

I have hope for a better world, a fresh perspective, a fierce love. Is this too much to hope for?

People may tell me to hide these thoughts. That most things are better left unsaid. But if I have found something, should I keep it to myself?

If I have love, should I bury it deep inside?

If I know the truth, should I allow others to remain in darkness?

To quote Quiz Kind Donnie Smith from Magnolia:

"I don't know where to put things, you know? I really do have love to give! I just don't know where to put it!"

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Two Year Old Thoughts

Not thoughts from a two year old, but a few selected thoughts and poems that I wrote in my Creative Writing journal two years ago.

Summer Pools

Life is balanced

Chubby swim trunk
Polka dot bikini
Jump in summer

Poetry deals with precise objects, and concrete images, not abstract.

And out of all the books in the library, I was content with the library girl.

I don’t leave any room for truth to conform to music - to lose control of the pen and see where it takes me.

Do uncreative people dream about mediocre and boring things?

The Ripeness of My Youth
In the ripeness of my youth
I discovered time travel
But there were kinks in the gears
The hourglass grew as time took its time

I began to taste the moon
Then my travels grew tiresome
But now I am once again immersed
In the ripeness of my youth

When I write, do I write about important things? Do I write about things that are worthwhile, time-withstanding, ever-lasting, and overall good? If I was to write about the deep heaviness of life with every pen stroke, I would more than likely lose sight of the simple things. The unimportant and yet extremely vital aspects of human living.

Spring Break
Hey! Let’s celebrate spring break
And BAKE in the sun
And run
You make me forget what I planned to do
You make me brand new
When you laugh and break the window framing us as a motionless scene, serene,
But no! we’re distinct, we’re unclean,
We don’t let them tell us what to be,
And then at night
We sit by the fire bright
as if we couldn’t get enough of this thick heat,
I must repeat myself when I say I could let you make me happy forever
But spring break is now, and I shouldn’t bother with the future, but
Whether weather permits
For that dress that fits you so well.
I can tell that we won’t ever need to make plans to forget again.

Why must everyone be put into a little box?
The way life should really be lived is to be the space that isn’t the box. To be everything but the box.
I don’t want to order off the menu anymore. I don’t want to take their ingredients and make my own food. I want a new restaurant, a new menu. A city park, a zoo, something completely different. I can’t be spoon fed anymore. I don’t want to use their spoon to feed myself. Who says I have to use utensils, who is trying to fit me into their utensil mold?
I want a generation of people using new utensils, making utensils, using their hands, creating something better than utensils, introducing something so amazing to the world that no one will care about who said what about anything anymore, especially utensils.

Don’t just take what they have.
Don’t just take what they have and make it new.
Take what they don’t have and make it yours.