Home is Where the Happiness is.

Home is where the happiness is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZqzUeH8raA&feature=related

Breath in.

Exhale.

Repeat.

Slow down.

It has been a year since living really took hold. I have loved. I have hated. I have loved again. I have grown. I have challenged. I have drunk. I have thought. And thought. And thought.

So many times I ramble on with this very deep message. This discovery that is so unique that it challenges the status quo of the entire society.

Ok, maybe not. But to me, it is a big deal.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SF7fCDxCYEQ

I recently traveled to the land of the lost to catch up with family and friends. What I discovered is how similar we all are. I could go into this great detail on how my best friends are now married. One is about to be the world’s greatest dad and the other is riding the wave and enjoying the trip.

I could ramble on about how Phoenix is no different from San Antonio. The same people that love either of those cities are amazing people that I hold close to my heart. Unfortunately, I am not one of those people.

I could rant and rave on how there are televisions in front of every seat on an airplane or how many people were complaining of their weight as hot dogs were entering face holes.

I could get really pissed off with people driving everywhere and how much time is spent analyzing situations we have never witnessed. I could start dropping f-bombs and be pretentious with how awesome I am not to watch TV.

I will not swear as I made a promise to Mrs. B and I know Charlie will not approve. No more mustache so hopefully on my next visit to Carlsbad, I will not scare him under the table.

I could touch on how much fun it was to sit around, drink beer and play poker with the spirit of my youth. The same hopes and dreams shared around the table as the stories grew new Acts with each telling and the beer in which we snobbishly drank increased in price.

I could talk about a night of skee ball, a mechanical mouse, tailgating outside of Trader Joe’s and finding a Bit ‘O Britain a long way from home, but it would bore you.

I could talk about smoking hair at a club off Sunset, butcher knife stabbings at your local Target or the 37 times “I Love LA” was cranked up as the car was filled with children pretending to be of adult age.

These are the links that are in our past. Each of these moments happened because there was the first risk. Maybe it was by a timid boy on a basketball court. A common link was found because of a sports team. The paths of these two will forever be connected because of that first word. I can go through every first moment in which I met each of these people. I remember what was said, what was the first thought and how I loved and desired to have these people in my life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYCzDhaRV60

Have you ever thought about the role that you play in the life of someone that is not your own?

This past year has shown me this. I started the last twelve months with another piece of paper on the wall. I shifted 1,500 miles away from everything that was holding me back. I discovered what happens when immaturity wins and beauty is taken for granted. I had dreams found and books with answers opened themselves for me to discover.

But, see there was a flaw in the design. What I found was not any new information. The truths and answers were the same as in the past. There must have been a mistake. There was no parade or holiday.

What I did find is that we are what we put in. We are only as strong as we allow ourselves to be and we will always be right. If we are pissed off, we will find pissed off people to share our evening with. We will drink a few six packs, judge all that we see and attempt to sleep with a pounding headache from cheap booze and lonely desires.

If we are happy we will share that energy with all around us. We will enjoy traffic with a smile on our face and chat about literature. We will be open to change and want to have long walks in circles as the air we breath has never tasted so sweet.

The world has become a contrast of styles. It is a constant competition and we are always fighting. We want to be happy all the time. When we are not happy, we need to find something/someone to blame it on and focus hatred in that direction. When we are happy, we are not happy enough or have to indulge in substances to keep the doubts at bay.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xI48KUXr6VY

I am in awe of those who do what I write. It is easy to judge from a room full of Love and a computer screen as I wear a smile on my face. It is easy to speak of the miseries of life when everything is black. It is easy to type mush when everything is white. The tough part is the grey area. That is where our lives happen. That is where the poker games with friends happen. That is where the relationships break-ups happen. That is where the look in the mirror happens and the question of was it all worth it happens.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4hBQ3PMR7M&feature=related

Hell yeah.

No need for words after that. Let it soak and go do something to change the world.

Garner State Park

Garner State Park

Better known as the GSP. I have become a whore for Acronyms. Better known as a WFA.

Lost Maples Café – Utopia, TX

“Outclave. … Outclave; that’s not even a word.”

“I found an outclave on the mountain to meditate.”

“It’s not a word.”

“It is too.”

“I’m looking that up when we get back.”

“It should be.”

Santa Rita St.

The street in which this entire journey began. A place of dreams and cats. Broken glass and questioned motives.

Camping spot number 90 – Concan, TX

“That is a fake tree.”

“I think it’s there.”

“Look at it.”

“I am.”

“It’s fake.”

“Did you not just tell me to look at it?”

“Yes.”

“Then how is it fake?”

“It’s too beautiful to be real.”

Highway 281 – Blanco, TX

“Schweaty Ball Towel.”

“That is the –“

“Genius.”

Lost Maples Café – Utopia, TX

“What would you recommend?”

“Chicken Fried Steak.”

“Next.”

“Fried chicken.”

“How about something not friend.”

“Um, …”

“I’ll try the steak.”

Highway 290 – Dripping Springs, TX

“I don’t think I am ever having kids.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I am entirely too selfish for it.”

“No need to defend your decision to me.”

“I mean, I am fucked up alone. I feel like I would already be putting my kid at a disadvantage. I am a terrible boyfriend, how the hell would I be a good father?”

Camp Spot Number 90 – Concan, TX

“How good is your eyesight?”

“As good as yours.”

“You wear glasses?”

“Hence being as good as yours.”

“There’s a satellite up there.”

“Where?”

“You gotta find it on your own.”

Highway 281 – Bullverde, TX

“That would never work.”

“It’s all about marketing.”

“It’ll be way too hot.”

“You are not in charge of marketing. You can create the business plan.”

“No one will pay money to sleep in a stagecoach.”

“Never doubt the lack of intelligence with the American people.”

Lost Maples Café – Utopia, TX

“Have you looked at the wall?”

“I have.”

“Any thought.”

“It adds to the ambiance.”

“Are they aware that they are offensive?”

“I’m not offended, are you?”

“I guess not.”

Rock Outclave – Concan, TX

When you Love something; give it away. You can not protect it. Allow it to become what it is meant to be.

It is like a fresh morning or a blind date.

They are amazing not because of what is expected to happen; but because of possibilities.

Meditation is given to mute the distracting thoughts and provide an understanding of a reasonable way to live. For, if we were left to our own vices, anarchy on the self would be the byproduct.

We are our own worst enemy. Opposites attract because by the time everything is figured out about each other, it is too late to retreat.

Whatever happens, remember, we are going to be alright. We always are.

Highway 83 – Kerrville, TX

“Egyptian Cotton.”

“Corn bread muffins for breakfast.”

“Acoustic guitar player with a Stetson.”

“A longhorn on the ranch.”

“Star gazing at night and nature walks during the day.”

“Miniature golf course.”

“It’ll be a boutique, nature experience.”

“If we build it; huppies will come.”

Camping Spot Number 90 – Concan, TX

“I’ve heard it’s like horseshoes.”

“I used to play that a lot in prison.” Chase said.

“I’ve never played.”

“I was there a while.” Chase said.

“You’ve never played bocce?”

“You could probably kill someone with one of these balls.” Chase said.

“I’ll go first.”

Rock Outclave – Concan, TX

Life can never be what it was. There is no way to feel the exact same ever again. A song can provide a sorrow, but on a second listen can inspire. No matter how terrible it may seem it is always better then it was. We have grown so much intelligence in simply surviving. As the distractions mount, don’t lose yourself. We spend so much time trying to fix our flaws that we lose who we are. You can never be loved if you hate the moment. If everyday is constructed around Love it will escape. Once we find Love it feels like a struggle to keep it above the water. We fight as how could someone Love us when we feel so incomplete? We shield ourselves from challenge. We fear the future. The longer we attempt to halt progress, the more destructive we become. It is the desire of the heart to keep everything fresh in the past. Life is always perfect. There is felt to be one thing out of place. If only this one thing is found or comes back. I am ready and desire it now. That thought process will murder your spirit and worse, your heart. Once you integrate something from your past into your present the variables shift. Baggage, emotions, trials come with any new addition or subtraction. This is not to say that it is impossible, simply, you cannot expect everything to be the same when your mind has moved onto falling in Love with a different version of itself. Just get me that new car, house, TV, shirt, movie, trip, person, job … If only they could see me now. I’m ready! I, think? Listen to an album linked with an emotion. Does it bring your mind back to a different time or do you translate it to your current state of mind?

Enjoy.

Camping Spot Number 90 – Concan, TX

“You have to get the Patty Melt.” Chase said.

“At Lost Maples Café?”

“Yeah, we can go with you for dinner.” Chase said.

“Sounds good.”

“It cured my heroin addiction.” Chase said.

“Wow.”

“It’s amazing.” Chase said.

“I’m excited.”

“So, are you guys married?” Chase said.

Highway 83 – Vanderpool, TX

“All we need is a critic from the New York Times to give us a good review.”

“That’s like the Pope minting a church.”

“People will come from everywhere. They will already have to like it.”

“They’d update their Facebook pages.”

“If they give bad remarks, we can belittle them.”

“It’ll be like high school all over again.”

Market St. – Leakey, TX

“They have their Halloween costumes on.”

“You are one of them.”

“But I am aware of how it looks.”

“It’s being a bad ass.”

“It’s being a middle aged white guy.”

“Wild Hogs?”

“Travel around with your buddies on a bike and be a weekend rogue.”

“It’s a way of life.”

“It’s like being hippie and living in San Antonio.”

“All we need is to get the Schweaty Ball Towel to infiltrate the Harley culture and we will be millionaires.”

“They do have a lot of sweat dripping from the balls.”

Camping Spot Number 90 – Concan, TX

“Do you want to go half on some bars?” Chase said.

“It’s your turn.”

“What do I do again?” Chase said.

“You’ve been playing for a half hour.”

“My back is killing me.” Chase said.

“We can stop playing.”

“It’s ok, it’s just acting up. I’m supposed to have a cane.” Chase said.

“I’ll go.”

“About a year ago, I was hit by a car going 55 and dragged. It was on purpose. He was trying to kill me.” Chase said.

Lost Maples Café – Utopia, TX

“Can I get you anything else?”

“How are your milkshakes?”

“Good if I make them.”

“Will you make me one?”

“Are you ordering one?”

“Only if you make it.”

“You’ll just have to take a chance.”

Camping Spot Number 90 – Concan, TX

“We are one of only three Radiohead cover bands. There is one in Spain, New Jersey and us.” Chase said.

“Huh.”

“Ok Kid A. That’s our name.” Chase said.

“Clever.”

“We’ll play for you later. We need to go get some supplies.” Chase said.

“See ya later.”

“We’ll play. Promise.” Chase said.

Lost Maples Café – Utopia, TX

“Any dessert for you?” She said.

“Pecan pie.”

“Ice cream?” She said.

“No thanks.”

“You have to get the ice cream.”

“I don’t want ice cream.”

“Get the ice cream.”

“No.”

“Don’t judge him, Let him get what he wants.” She said.

Sammy’s – Castroville, TX

“Are you from Arizona?” She said.

“I am. I’m heading back next week.”

“Good luck.” She said.

“Thanks?”

“I heard it’s like a war zone.” She said.

“That’s probably a bit exaggerated.”

“Have you been watching it on TV. It looks like Iraq.” She said.

“I don’t have a TV.”

“You should really get one.” She said.

“I don’t think so.”

Rock Outclave – Concan, TX

The roles we play in the worlds we create. How they are different from interaction to interaction. In one circle you can be the intellectual. In another the jester. Then the husband. The child. The friend. The enemy. The lover. The compassionate. The naïve. The wise. The crazy. Your true role and spirit will always shine through. The faces we place are for survival.

Always be yourself. You are beautiful.

Lost Maples Café – Utopia, TX

“How was the Patty Melt?”

“Not very good.”

“It cured heroin.”

“Must have been a weak addiction.”

“I could see myself here.”

“In Utopia?”

“Here, like everywhere. I want to do this. I think I am this.”

“It’s a beautiful thing to be.”

“Can you be something without being anything?”

“When I get that answer, I’ll let you know.”

“Maybe the next trip?”

“Maybe the next trip.”

For further information concerning anything that you have learned here today; please, send express written consent to William.spadaro@asu.edu and I can happily provide additional information. Thank you and Schweaty Ball Towel on.

Just below these characters is a link to a fantastic video for a beautiful song. This song was played at least once while the above trip was being enjoyed. Very fitting for everything that is life. It is filmed entirely in Austin and will make you smile. Hopefully! :)

http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid24278846001?bctid=82322677001

Thank you; my audience

This past weekend I spent at a Buddhist writing retreat. The retreat was utilizing meditation and Buddhism in your writing to examine the inner self. The following will be a collection of the writing exercises in which I took part. Two notes: All of these writings took place in a ten minute period and these are not edited at all but simply the raw words scratched in a notebook and transferred to this wonderful little piece of cyberspace. I hope you enjoy, as it was a special weekend of discovery.

Retreat.

It is a vacation. It is constructed to remove your inner consciousness from the world in which you have chosen to enjoy. The word is also associated with losing. Retreat is a sign of surrender. No one ever retreats while succeeding. For when we are winning, we want more. We never are content with the moment, but more run toward the next challenge. These tasks are created and passed. When we move to the next level we call up the people closest to tell of the accomplishment. There is rarely an action done for self. We are constantly in search. In search of the truth. In search of enlightenment. In search of money or fame. Nothing is enjoyed while it is happening. This is why these releases from the white noise of life are needed. This is why we walk in circles to capture solitude. This is why we live away from others in moments that we need them the most.

Retreats allow us to re-assess why. Why? Now that is a troublesome word that is rooted with the notion of doubt. But, have you noticed, when you don’t ask yourself, why, life is working. The moments we remove judgment or explanation are the happiest.

Anxiety is something that can cause breakdowns. Anxiety is in the conscious and has no material value. It is like a bank account online. The numbers mean something, but they really don’t have a physical presence. How could these little digits have such a control over our lives?

But, anxiety is sparked by a doubt that is buried rather then dealt with. It buries itself with the other unsatisfied dreams simply waiting for the moment of freedom when all appears lost.

Retreat. Moving. New location. Fresh start. New connections. Friends. You can be a painter; or, a banker. You can help on a farm or study Italian. There are no expectations. All of your dreams are in the future. You will find an apartment and get a dog. Fridays will be happy hour with the co-workers. You can tell them the story about when you broke your arm playing basketball. And, that joke about your high school. It’ll be funny. It’ll be new. Completely new to the world. Saturday you can go to the theater. See a new show, talk about art, drink a latte, discuss world politics and the desire to volunteer, tomorrow.

Retreat. They will pick you up from the airport. Your old room will be ready. Your favorite dish from middle school will be waiting. Too much will be made. Didn’t you tell them you were vegetarian? Everyone will want to talk. Celebrate. Nothing in particular, but just talk. You are the entertainment. You are the one with the hopes logged on the suitcase and the Facebook status updates on high alert. You are worshipped.

Retreat. How do you admit failure? How long must it go before it is understood to be a mistake? Keep it going. Don’t stop. It wasn’t you; it’s them. They are just so fake. That’s it. Frauds. Just wait. Next city will be it. Get to the country. The true class of people. They will be happy. Simple. Simple and happy.

Loss.

Mind. It was lost when I entered. Lost when I went down this path. Down the rabbit hole. Lost when I pulled back the curtain. Lost when I skipped to the last page. Lost when I started thinking. I had it not too long ago. It was tangible. It was in my grasp. It was planned out and set in front. Everything down to the last breathe. It was to start tomorrow. Think now. Plan later. Start tomorrow. Revolutions don’t start in the afternoon. They start over the morning coffee and de-briefing of the random parade staged through the night.

Subconscious. Maybe the voice was looking for the mind. Maybe the only time a proper party can be gathered for this task is when the leader is asleep.

If only I had taken the blue pill. Weekends with football and lake boats. Weeknights with microwave salmon and American Idol. Discussions about sports and the Academy Awards. Debates about Toothpaste and ketchup.

The easy life. Oblivious to all that is around. Blinders on. They work for horses. Once taken off the horse gets writer’s block with all the possibilities of life. It’s simply safer for all parties to keep tunnel visioned. Question nothing other than the wattage the microwave can produce as you stare at the endless directions on the package just about the fine print.

Follow me if you’d like to break the mold. I am your white rabbit.

Loss II.

Off. Dormant. Replaced. Black. Empty. Unfulfilling. It sits on it’s pedestal like the athlete on the words of the sports pages. Other worldly. Providing a release from all those emotions. Pain and happiness with the flip of a switch. Created with the diversion of distraction. Something with the good intention of saving the whole minimized to the duty of slavery. A vessel to the distant shores of childhood to adolescence. A gatekeeper of the future with the question asker of the conscious. A mirror of self. Used to gauge the fever within the mind to express how should it be understood. No need to try to understand as the emotion in which controls you is not yours. Manufactured to appease others. Should replaces real. Real lost the fight as soon as flashy lights allowed for human experience to be tossed to the past tense. There is nothing left of the search for the mind is in the old place you left it. The trick is to find it, dust it off and remember just how to start it. Like an old Chevy Blazer, it wants to help you tow all of your memories and experiences with you on the journey, it just needs a little compassion to start on the trek. Old technology will be new again. Distractions are always around like chocolate cake, it is up to you to decide who and what you want to love. Things are never lost, for to be lost you need to have been found and that shifts with each moment as you will never experience that instance with that exact position ever again.

Photo. (This entry was based on a photo that means a lot to the writer. I chose a photo I have in my wallet of my Grandfather whom I never met.)

My grandfather. Other members of my family. People I will never know. Tie twisting in the wind. Belt buckle clasped for survival; duty to hold up baggy pants. A size too big.

Old country. Southern Italy.

American dream. Slight smirk. He has won. This is what he wanted. He has succeeded. Conquered America. Goes back to the Mother land with the family.

Elders confused. Confused with new invention of camera. Happy to see family but envious of future.

My grandmother. Taking the picture, trying to work contraption. Pain in the eyes. Joy in the face of the child until life gets its turn.

Dialogue with my Grandfather and I. With the understanding that I could speak with him during the time the photo was taken.

“Are you smiling?” I ask.

“Should I be smiling?” He answers.

“Are you happy?”

“About what?”

“This…”

“Sure.”

“That doesn’t seem true.”

“If you know already, why ask the question?”

“Is it?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d like to know.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you are.”

“Then I am. Case closed.”

“But, what do you feel?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“If you’re going to answer every question you ask, why am I here?”

“Sorry.”

“I, … just don’t worry about it.”

“It’s your life.”

“I’m aware.”

“You have to worry. Everyone worries.”

“We don’t.”

“You lie.”

“Do you worry?”

“Yes.”

“About?”

“Everything.”

“Why?”

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what’s living is. You worry about everything until, poof.”

“I don’t.”

“You do; you’re just fighting it.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Did it work out?”

“Sure.”

“This is what you imagined. This is exactly how you mapped it all out. The plan in action right before our eyes.”

“There was no plan.”

“You are frustrating.”

“I’m honest. You want me to be something; I’m not. I’ll go along if it makes you happy; but I’m simply trying to be honest.”

“So, this is it?”

“This is it.”

“Was it worth it?”

“You tell me when I see you again.”

This was written around a bonfire. It was set up close to a pier with the lake in front of us, sunset to the right of us, stars above us and smores in our hands.

Fire. Is the present moment. It is and only will be this one instant. Once the resources are gone it is no more. It knows no worry about the future or judgment with the past. It doesn’t have the desire to worry about things out of its control. It dances for survival. It kills its fuel for it understands no rational way of existence. It is wild. It is pleading to us with each spark and pop. Smoke billows from the next victim in the pile. It sucks up to the creator for more fuel. One more log. Just another 10 minutes of life. It’s simply desiring life. But, it is content with the end. It feels it as the flames dim, the smoke clears and the carnage lays. It will enjoy what it controls and apologize for nothing. When we control the product, it is limited, when it is unleashed on nature, it loses self-control. All that is left is the moment in which we exist together.

What do you find yourself grateful for?

Grateful. Air to breath. Clothes to wear. Friends to talk. Family to love. Food to eat. Books to read. Paper to abuse. Pens to graffiti. Feet to walk. Minds to inflict. Eyes to see. Life to live. Fear to Love. Courage to apologize. Beer to drink. Memories to cherish. Future to shape. Chess to play. Shoes to vessel. Meditate to answer. Search for nothing. Desire the now.

Grateful for everything and nothing. Everything good comes with stress. Everything terrible comes before the good. For the life is lived in the attempt. The outcome is always wrong, but consistently correct. Nothing happens that was not supposed to. There will always be doubters and supporters. Each person has a role to play. Sometimes those roles can switch, but you are in control of their effect. Be grateful for that control. I am grateful for understanding that there is nothing in this world I am not prepared for and nothing I can escape. For escaping is held for the smart ones not attempting this suicide of the past. Revolutions are wasted on the youths. Revolt against yourself before it is too late.

There is no difference between writing and meditation. Things and places are constructed to find something unattainable.

Lectio Divina

“People of the older generation complain that ‘nowadays there is no conversation.’”

~Tolstoy

Cycles. Circles. Emerson spoke of how life is circled. How everything is connected and boils down to these shapes. We speak of the current. We romanticize the past and make those moments magnificent. We worry about the future and assemble arguments for global warming and pesticides like sci-fi writers create spaceships and robotic women. We allow these arbitrary thoughts to consume us, to take us away from the moments in which we can control. The six inches in front of our face that allows us the control of the verdict. Living and dyeing. Surviving and crumbling. We have the skills. We have the intelligence. We are self-aware. We have the time. It is now up to us to go onward. For the journey is the prize. The end of the road is impossible to find as it does not exist. We can make plans under the moonlight but in the morning will they be executed or extinguished?

Conversations will never be dead as we always will need a community forum to express our most inner expressions. For, if the collection subconscious can indeed support their notions; it’ll make a better case to overthrow the current government power in our brain being run by fear.

Free Write

The audience. I write for them. I am here to entertain them. I sing and dance. I jester and humiliate. I satire and communicate. I control the world in which they have entered. I am the leader and executor. I am for them as much as they are for me.

It is green. Massively green. Too green. Computer generated Imagery green. Like the forests of Avatar. Too green to be real. The wind pushes through. It is gentle. Both have a job and both respect the other. A slight wave. A tip of the hat like old friends journeying home after a night of warm beer and cold stories.

I am not there to exchange thought. I am selfish. I am incomplete. I am like peanut butter searching for jelly. Like a vehicle without gas or happiness without misery. Unable to stand alone without our mate. Solo existence can happen, but survival is impossible. I need my audience like a chef needs recipes or a child needs therapy.

Emerald green. That sounds fantastic. No idea what it means, but someone does. It was emerald green with peaks and valleys. As with humans, weeds can grow to varying heights depending on genetics and care. Flaws in the design are covered with spots of purple. Red and blue take a shot at ground control. A sprits of yellow and white relax a little lower not quite as brave. The weeds accept their temporary neighbors. They share the sunlight and visits from temperamental butterflies. Grasshoppers growl their salutations as the sun makes its trek across the cloudless vacuum of the blue sky. The audition is going well. Everyone knows their part. Day after day the routine is the same until it ends. When that day comes, the flowers say their good-byes. Nothing teary, for they know they will meet again. The method acting of living is the most beautiful performance.

I document. I create. I exist. I dance. I communicate. I connect. I act. I live. I Love. I fail. I try. Times up.

Thank you; my audience.

Five Foolish Actions of my life.

1.     Slapping a bouncer in Denver.

2.     Giving up writing to attempt a “normal” life.

3.     Blaming others for fevers within self.

4.     Attraction to impossible situations with equal parts excitement and stupidity.

5.     Assumption that I was a failure.

Choose one of these and write stating that it was the greatest decision you have ever made.

The stress that comes with expectations can be terrible. The relief that comes with failure can be magnificent. Surrendering to all that has caused pain and doubt for the future is gone in one fail swoop. No longer a need to excuse or manipulate the facts. No more lies to those close concerning progress. There is no progress. There are no goals when you have failed. All that is left is the honesty. The honesty with yourself that you are the last of a line of expectors. To acknowledge and accept your personal failure will be to be one with the lost expectations and the pettiness of plans. The universe is not good nor evil. I am not goof nor evil; but each of my actions have the ability to enhance or limit my life as well as those in which I infect. We are the most powerful critics and revolutionaries in the world.

Off the Radar.

The weekend with the folks off of the radar.

I am trying to get off of the radar. I am trying to free myself of whatever junk I have upstairs in my head. I do understand that this is impossible, as what I deem to be junk is actually something that I valued at a certain point. Therefore, my desire to clear away these old, once very important bits of information to create room for these new very important bits of information. See, it is this cycle.

What I have found is that it is never in the product of the action, but in the attempt. Getting a college degree was supposed to solidify my future. It was the lynchpin in whatever it is that I was to do. I was always the youngest and “wise for my age.”

Earning that degree, then earning an additional degree and my latest pursuit of yet another degree has done nothing to create any sense of stability, but has caused even more doubt concerning the importance of the construct.

This past weekend I spent every moment with people that has or are in the attempt to live away from this manufactured happiness. I am not going to paint each individual with a broad stroke, but these are my brothren in the trenches. And, with you taking time to enjoy these wonderful insights, you are with us and not alone.

A quick overview is in order.

Friday: Billiards and chess. I am pretty talented at one, pretty terrible at the other, both equally as fun.

Saturday: Workshop in the morning. Symposium in the afternoon. Literary benefit in the evening.

Sunday: Coffee and mind dump in the morning. Purposeless lunch in the afternoon. Reading and meditation in the evening. Also, more chess.

I have re-ignited the beast that is William taking over Austin with sheer energy and naïve dreams that the best is yet to come.

I am becoming heavily involved with an amazing literary organization in Austin entitled the Austin Bat Cave. My first order of business, was to spend the morning with author, Wells Tower, to workshop and exchange ideas about the writing process. Briefly, it was amazing. I wrote two stories in a short amount of time. The stories will be at the end of this short entry for you to enjoy.

The afternoon continued with a discussion with five national authors concerning the current state and future of the writing profession. After that an after party of sorts was hosted at Club De Ville in Austin with bands, beer and smart discussions with smart people.

Sunday was a chill morning of chess, travel, coffee and vegan nut bread. It mellowed into a trip to the Austin Zen Center for a purposeless picnic with a passively heated game of bocce. The evening blended more chess with meditation and assessment of all that is or will be.

Wrapping a nice and quick bow on the weekend, it was pleasant to enjoy time with the folks who do enjoy life in the moment. So many times we are caught up with what has happened, what will be happening, what I don’t have a certain time, what I had and lost and what I may never have again. All of these worries are self created and cause the anxieties in which cripple ourselves on a daily basis.

It was refreshing to simply enjoy nothingness that was filled with the energies of brilliant minds connecting in a human way. Also, it is a nice shot to the ego when a published author is so impressed with your work that it causes him to be self conscious about his.

The following will be two stories followed by a clip of a band in which I recently discovered with the help of my good friend, Benjamin, entitled “Bonobo.”

Enjoy.

The Lie I’m Glad I Told

Windows. Why so many windows? It is to save money? Is it for safety? Is it to oppress?

It flies by. Just goes and goes. Then it stops. Stops dead. Stops slowly. Veers left then right. Jitters. Feels like a boat but there is not any water.

People come and go. Like spirits sharing for a few moments. Bonds of a community forged and lost with each stop. These stops are the pathways to what is and what was.

Is this time travel? Is this a chance to go back and change? Can I get off, cross the street, hop on the other way and go back. Go back to the moment that just happened. The one that caused this trip. The one that made me; me?

Stops again. Two on; six off. Numbers are dwindling.

Do they know? They have to know. I’m wearing it on my face like a virgin wears a chastity ring. The shame of following the voice of doubt in your head during the most gray areas of the day, but happy to be strong when the dream has passed.

Should I tell them?

Why not? We are friends. Common to the virtues of travel. They would be proud. Proud that I was honest. I could be their story. For a moment they can leave their role as the lead in their life and try their hand at the supporting role. They would like that. I know they would. Later, they would sit at the dinner table and while enjoying their processed sugars and chemicals pronounce: “You won’t believe what I heard today …”

Stop. Three off; one on.

The overcast is losing. It is spread so far that it is thinning. The sun is looking for the weak spot. Just plotting its strike. Searching the board for the weakest piece. Its there, it always is. Just have to search for it. The sun always wins.

Two stops left. Three people on. Decision time. I can just keep it inside. She’ll never know. It’ll just go on top of the pile with the lies of “who ate the cake?” or “This shade of lipstick on your collar doesn’t look all that much like mine.” Those worked out just fine. Honesty would have been more destructive.

Not for you; but them. They didn’t really want to know the answer. Just like your traveling brothern don’t want this nugget.

Keep it inside. It’s dark and crowded enough. What damage could another one do?

Stop. Two off.

Solitude. You and the driver.

It’s quite.

It’s sunny.

So predictable.

THE END.

“I’m going to make breakfast. He’ll like that.”

“What time is she going to work?”

“Eggs and biscuits. Seven grain toast with almond butter. Grapefruit juice.”

“It should have ended earlier.”

“New York Times or USA Today? He has glasses, has to be a Times guy.”

“Is she up? I can still make it home before it gets there.”

“NPR. Definitely NPR. Professors only listen to it, have to stay informed.”

“Why did I take that last Jamison?”

“A professor. Wow! I wonder if it’ll be a spring wedding.”

“Did I drive back? My keys, ok, in my pants. Where are my pants?”

“Three kids. Two girls; one boy. Tanner. We’ll have Tanner first. Oldest son.”

“Ok, go time. She hasn’t moved. Mission to the pants, little noise. Leave the shoes. Come on yoga, time to pay off.”

“Greenwich. It’ll be a Cape Cod home. Mom and dad will be so proud. Chad won’t.”

“She moved. Did she move? Goddamnit. Abort! Abort, body stay still.

“Good morning.”

“Too late.”

THE END.

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Bus Thoughts

A few weeks ago I started working. Last week I began taking the bus to save money, the environment and my sanity. The following are brief writings in which I sketched on those journeys. Enjoy.

Beaten.

Murdered.

Loved.

Excited.

Relieved.

Worried.

Hated.

Embraced.

Exhausted.

Each day we dream of a different life then the one we lead. Always trying. Never trying. Every decision begins with hope. Hope to survive or hope for suicide.

The bus. Live in the moment, then live again when you write about it. Creation of new reality in which we control. Do what we are good at; gives us confidence. Confidence is key to happiness. Sadness is the key to survival.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The hatred of sports teams is racist. Hating all of Boston for a baseball team beating another baseball team is like hating a neighbor for shopping at a different grocery store across the street from the one you support. When did we get so competitive?

---------------------------------------------------------------------

These insignificant, valuable distractions we contain in order to keep our personal pressure release valve in a healthy enough state to allow us to spew illogical, poorly researched opinionated facts about the state of political stability in Chile that further our minds to stay focused on the task at hand moreso than dissect why exactly he cannot have sex with his wife without her ass in his face, why he likes to still pick his nose and thinks when he is in his Dodge Villager that no one can see him do it, why he stalks the love of his life that broke his heart every Thirsday but made him touch the ether of enlightenment on the wings of Dogfish Head, some low quality schwagg from Roberto on the corner that intersected across from the Bell Tower on the campus of higher education in which donations were made in order obtain a pat on the back from a business man in the market for profit margins over book dissertations, and a sunrise over pale, brown ancient mountains carved by a river that will be dried by the time the offspring inside of her is old enough to study Geology in a Community College if she were not to exercise her right of aborting the greatest mistake that would challenge the plan that she set in stone with the chisel of Feminists to never settle down and have children before attaining the distinction of Doctor as that is not what the frontline sexists that fought in the streets allowing for her generation to balance the sexual power within the Academic world for if she were to mother and foster this cluster of cells it would be a complete violation of every single letter within the Manifesto’s of a wave of openmindedness preaching independence and transcendantilism through finding peace without a soul as then it cannot be tainted and challenged by the ego of the mind as it struggles to keep the dream section from taking over persuading the balance of the oppressed individual passion fighters of the educated from winning the battle from underground to Facebook. And so it begins …

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Times up.

Garage opens.

Internet off.

Pants on.

Garage closed.

Outside achieved.

Cigerette lit.

Shoes off.

Mail checked.

Pool skimmed.

TV on.

Blouse unbuttoned.

Bra loosened.

Wine opened.

Glass poured.

Backdoor opened.

Volume higher.

Fridge ajar.

Beer opened.

Dinner unpackaged.

Microwave on.

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Work?”

“Good”

“Work?”

“Good”

“Dinner?”

“Thanks”

“Sex?”

“Kids?”

“Mom’s”

“Oh”

“Nevermind”

“No”

“Okay”

“Maybe?”

“Later”

“Later”

“Now?”

“T.V.”

“T.V.”

“Sure”

They sit.

They watch.

It flashes.

They forget.

It goes.

And goes.

American Dream.

They win?

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Baseball is the old reliable friend that stays with you. It never judges or preaches. It never tries to be more then it is but provides a mirror.

The sun is out, the work life stumbles on, the brain hums about the worries in which constantly refit 

themselves; but baseball is there. It does not provide instant results or action. It cannot be sped up and the beginning is just as important as the end.

It is life.

Every pitch has the ability to shift the entire game. Each player has to understand their role without analyzing it every moment.

Baseball is the game of the intellectual. It requires everything that is essential to a successful life. It is not a search for absolute truth as each game is a small detail to construct an overall general picture of what it is to survive the peaks and valleys that contribute to the human condition that is alive in all built with the unfortunate mentality of compassion and depth.

He who thinks; has already lost.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVT_N8mnr2k

Whitehall

“It sounds like rehab.”

I have mastered the skill of parallel parking. Ok, maybe not mastered, but I have become very good.

This is my third lap. Do I need to go another block over? Will someone leave? Why are so many people driving? I wonder what’s for dinner this evening?

So, it has been over a month. I have not entered anything in a while. I recently spent time looking through whatever it is that I am creating here and it is pretty amazing. I can chart through each post that I have entered. I can tell you where I was sitting when I wrote it. How I was feeling. What was happening in my life? What I was pretending that wasn’t happening in my life? And most importantly, how confident I was during each of the episodes that I documented.

An addiction is something that takes over your life. My problem is I have too many of these addictions to count. An addiction to writing. An addiction to attention. An addiction to free thought. An addiction to music, literature, film, chess and hoppy beer. These addictions are no different then an addiction to something more menacing like crack or television.

There is an addiction that is one that sometimes overwhelms my mind to the root and causes a complete shut down of the soul; that would be pity.

I lay in my room and wonder where it all changed. When did it go from this point to that next one? When was my existence in Austin no longer a vacation but transitioned into the toughest struggle yet? What was my next move and would it be the right one? Do I jump into the job force and go for the white picket fence or do I run back into school to continue to be sheltered in the bubble that is higher education? Have I succeeded in Austin or have I created a disaster? The clanging of harmonic triangle and a lone piece of a drum set indicate one thing in these parts, it’s dinnertime.

Everything we do is done for a reason. This reason makes the most perfect and logical sense at the time. There is nothing that is done without the person executing the action having the most utmost confidence in the success of the ideology. For, if the person attempting something has little faith in the overall success of the task at hand, it has imploded prior to it even has started.

It looks like a Cinnabun, yet tastes like fried chicken. Oh, the glories of tofu. My diet has made a very drastic shift over the past three weeks. My old dinners of hot pockets and a bag of chips have been phased out in order to bring in fresh vegetables and the wonderful world of tofu. The reason for this shift is new surroundings in which I find myself.

I am one of the newest members to a Cooperative Housing organization in Austin. It is known as Whitehall International Society. It is a multi-generational, vegetarian community.  It has saved my mind. It is like rehab.

The people that are my new roommates are the outcasts. A house made up of misfits on the fringe of society. There is no television or meat. There is no negativity or judgment. It is a completely unplugged portion of society in which you are allowed to follow your folly.

I am an individual writer. I live inside of my head with conversations in which are not real nor can anyone hear them. I led a life in which I tried to limit that voice and stifle it to the expectations of the society I was conditioned to fear.

These expectations and this sense of need to be accepted was created internally as there is nothing expected from us in this life other than our own independence. Granted, this is from the viewpoint of a member of the privileged class within a country of independent followers.

At some point everyone has approached the end of the road. The road that has led them the life they have imagined or the life that they have followed. We have followed those before with the anticipation of things getting better or we have blazed our own track while re-writing the rules that generations will follow.

It is always easier to follow those that have come before rather than challenge. Go across the board over your existence and each watershed moment will have formed because you trusted your mind rather than bow to the fear created by the doubt created within your conscious.

I moved to Austin from Phoenix without the inkling of anything negative happening. Looking back a few short months, I am in awe of my courage and my irrational behavior. The greatest moments are those in which no one believes in you but yourself. For, the life you are carving out is not meant for spectacle or up for interpretation for anyone that is outside of your mind. Deep down there is a feeling that develops when you follow your heart and when that happens an apology is never the end result.

Moments come and go. Each of these moments are life changing and altering. Within each contain the decision is yours to embrace or deflect. It is completely within your own power to follow the passion and limit the noise.

Whitehall is rehab for the soul. It is a commune of people piecing together the passions within their heart to lead the life we have imagined. We are artists and writers. We are lawyers and teachers. We are scientists and humanitarians. Each day we wake up to the support of those around in order to act in the manner that we have dreamed. Today I am a writer again. Today is a good day. My soul is thieving again. Watch out doubters, it is time for the Phoenix to rise onward to the next challenge.

“”It is like rehab. It is something that comes after the storm has hit and you are at the bottom. The most important action is that first step.”

Moral: When in Austin come visit us at Whitehall. It’s been too long since I have tossed up some words and the downfall of ramblings will be flowing in abundance. Love yourself today, as tomorrow will be too late.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thWJ53kS43U

New Beginnings

Aloha.

It’s been so long since I have looked at this blank page and let my fingers dance along the keyboard.

This is being written in the very early moments in the morning as the brain is humming through so many possibilities it feels like a match book in the hands of groom to be as he ponders if this is what he thought it would all end up like.

So, things in Austin have been strange. Everyday has been a roller coaster. Not a ride from top to bottom. But more level, of good days to great days.

Rather than bore you with the many details and just how they unfolded. Without placing judgment on any other party than my own.

When I started this project it was a celebration. It was a piece to celebrate the new activities and moments in my life. I would update this little blog, my friends would read it and get excited as their imaginations wondered with the great adventures that I was enjoying.

My Austin friends would read it and then we would talk about the places and just how amazing everything was.

Times were good. The writing was good. It was fluff, but when you are in love or lust, life itself is nothing but fluff as you float along.

Somewhere along the lines this project took a left hand turn off the cliff of puppies and rainbows. It went into a cycle of depression and became ashamed of itself. The posts became dark and filled with loathing and pity.

In essence, I became what it was that I hated.

See, here is where this post is going to change from where I would have gone. I would have continued down this path of hating everything and looking for the cracks in the things around me.

This time, I am going to embrace it all. This post is in large credit to a found Hope in humanity. Hope is an interesting thing as it is not material and simply in the conscious, therefore can be found or lost at any moment.

I think the issue that I have always had is that I always have to be happy. This is because I think that I have it all figured out. As with life, once you have it by the string it will rock your world and see if you can pick yourself up again.

I am back in the classroom. I think this goes a long way to why everything has leveled out. It is not just the fact that I am sitting in a class and learning. It is the community in which I identify.

The following will be examples of things that I have never done and if it is in error, please let me know as I could always use some good information.

But, when you are a soldier and you come back you are still a soldier. You are a soldier trying to fit back into society. The longer you fight what you truly are, the harder it will be to survive. You try and fit into the “norm” that everyone else is supporting so you can just coast right on by. What you don’t know, work needs to be done and you will never be the same person you were before.

If you have been a salesman for 40 years and then retire. Selling things has been your motivation for those years, then you just have to relax and play golf. Depression hits the retired the hardest as they do not know what to do with the new freedoms of just being. They have been trained to do something and to just take it away can be crippling.

I have been trained to be a thinker. I have been in the classroom most of my life and that is where I feel most comfortable. I enjoy other things and sometimes hate it; but it is my first Love. Sitting around and talking about gossip or other people or watching fluff movies and television spark this depression inside of me. Then, the judgments of the “normal” people in society get tossed on and the pit becomes ever growing.

I was recently given one of the greatest compliments during a heated exchange. You are a storyteller; this was the line. I said thank you, smiled and I thought maybe I have arrived.

It is human condition to be afraid of what we do not understand and to compete. The more that I learn, the less I know. What I do gather is that these two experiences are linked with vanity. Nothing good can come out of being vain. There is no reason to go down a path for someone else or live the life you have not imagined in order to keep the boat steady.

Rock the boat. The best people have been those in which a label was placed on them of lunacy at the time. This label allowed the oppressed people to excuse themselves from leading the life of their dreams.

The thing about emotions is that they can change on a moment to moment basis and you are the only person in charge of them.

One of my greatest flaws is empathy. I am empathetic and want to help everyone; therefore I take myself away from my journey. This causes me to assume that if I make someone else whole and happy, they will in turn do the same for me. The thing is not their fault as they do not need the added pressure of my happiness.

When you expect something in return, it will never be there. I have found that being completely selfish and understanding that all of my happiness comes from inside. That this happiness should not be hidden for the comfort of vain others, but should be expressed with those people that appreciate it.

Everyday is a new adventure again. I am in a sense of discovery and it is leading to enlightenment. This enlightenment is found each evening when I place my head down to rest.

Embrace not being able to sleep and enjoy the thoughts, embrace being depressed as you are not alone and the more you hide it, the more you go along the path of the unfulfilled.

Make everything uncomfortable as that is where the growth happens. If everything is comfortable and you are surrounded with people who do not challenge you, you will never attain the dreams you have built in the sky.

I do have a bit of confession for this discourse. These words are not solely mine as this has been pieced together with random threads of conversation with my classmate. These talks have taken place around the city usually over a chessboard and some poorly thought out moves. It is amazing where the mind can go when you take away the censors and let it run free. It is scary, in a good way.

Moral: Welcome back Austin, time for a new beginning. Rock the boat and when the dust settles, the closest Loves will still be there. Knowledge is power, the more you know, the better prepared you are for  the struggle. Embrace every emotion as pain and sorrow can be just as important as happiness.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GB-xAQBWrm0

Walking

Walking.

The title of this blog is “Walking in Austin.” Over the past week I have rediscovered this art that was so motivating that it became the name for the medium in which I am the most honest with myself.

Since New Years I have become Serpico. For those whom this reference has no memory, he was a detective in New York that was the key witness against his fellow cops who were taking illegal cash payments from criminals. The story was made into one of my favorite films under the same name and utilizing Al Pacino as the lead. I mention the fact that I am becoming Serpico not because I am a cop, but because I feel like it is my duty to try and express how beautiful life is, but it is just under the surface of this current world. Also, because Pacino has a very long beard and hair, which I am currently sporting, which is pretty fantastic.



I have two offices here in Austin. Both are equally as sublime in different ways and both provide amazing places for writing, thinking and talking. The first of these offices is located at the Town Lake. Around the lake area, my actual office changes each day as there are so many different locations. The second of my offices, when the weather is poor, is the Capital. The Capital is open to the public and has viewing rooms above the Senate and House floors. These rooms can seat hundreds, auditorium style. It provides a very quite sanctuary in which free thought can flow will inside an amazing building over 100 years old.



Both of these locations are on my daily walking route. I have calculated it, and I roughly walk about 10 miles a day. These walks have happened under the clear blue skies and the grey storm clouds with rain. These walks happen everyday and are a way of meditation. Everyone else drives, I walk. I am of a select few, but we are out there. We are the people that do not have to rush anywhere as we have no expectations other than our personal happiness.



I have begun to notice a pattern. A pattern with the music I listen to depending on where I am on the journey. When I start it is always to Spoon. When I get to the park it switches to Pearl Jam. When I get across Congress bridge and approach Zilker park it is Bright Eyes. When I decide to sit and rest it is Sigur Ros. When I write it is Radiohead, When I read it is Animal Collective. When I begin to walk back to the house it is Tom Waits. This pattern can be broken, but it provides the soundtrack for what has become my life.



This pattern continues with the people that I see on the trail. I think of them as my friends. They are also ailed by the conscious that can only be cleared with the power of walking. I see the same gentleman riding his bike wearing only a flesh tone colored string thong. He always smile in my direction. The first time I saw him I had to take a second look. Was that dude really wearing just a thong? Yes, yes he was. Now that I see him everyday I wave and nod. He smiles and returns the karma, rides right on by grinning like a child.



When I cross under the bridge for the Interstate 35 there is the same woman sitting on the bench fighting some demon in her head that will never let her rest. I am sure she has some form of dementia and is homeless. A tear is always formed and no matter what my thoughts are caught up in, at that moment I just thank everyone that I know for just being there. I can see the pain in her dilated eyes from years of self torment. How she has fended off anyone that could have ever loved her. How she had become just too difficult for her relatives to take the time to care for her. How cruel this world can be if you just get beaten down one too many times.



Further down the path is a bench that I meditate at. It is located off of the running trail and is surrounded by the lake. I stop every time I am at the bench just to slow everything down. The last two days, when I approached this bench a construction worker was enjoying his lunch. He was a stout African American man and was clad with the mist of saw dust. Across the street is the location in which a very large building with new lofts was being constructed. He was taking his break from building living spaces for people in a much higher social class. This was his moment to just sit and think. Or just sit and not think. Or just sit and sit. I smiled and nodded, he returned the favor. This was his little piece of paradise for the day and it was amazing to watch how a little park can transform the identity of a man within his own mind.



Something happens when I visit this park. A transformation. It feels like the rush of life is drowned out to a little murmur. Like all the cries and worries of the society wash away as the wind off the lake sways the trees.



I have always been a walker and a talker. Talking to me has always been one of my favorite things to do. Yes, this is why I have a blog and I am a writer. When you are a writer, you always have someone to talk to.



These patterns that I have created for my days have allowed for portals to be opened. Portals that allow for my subconscious to breath without the judgment of those around. The work is judge enough. This world is not here to judge what has happened before or what will happen again. It is just witness to what we bring to it. We are not here to be better or worse than our neighbor. It is not our job to make the most money or win the most contests. It is our job to simply be happy.



People are always afraid of what they do not know. I am no different. I am just as scared of every calamity that could happen or getting cancer. I am scared of running out of money or being alone my whole life. These issues have been imprinted in our minds to be things that cause fear for good reason. But, our brains can be re-programmed. We can control what we value and how it effects our lives.



Remember, no one has ever been born great. People who were dubbed mad during their times are not thought of has the greatest thinkers ever to walk the Earth. When you live on the edge there are moments in which you get cut and other moments in which you lose complete contact with the surface. Know that every moment is temporary and everything will make sense in the moonlight.



I started this post with the importance of walking. It is a meditative activity that allows me to leave this world the better. I have patterned myself with moments that cause my personal happiness. This happiness is found in my writing as each day I find out something new about myself. How are we to be honest to others when we are afraid of who we are?



Moral: Get out and walk or do whatever activity it is that centers your soul. Do not allow the judgments of others or their expectations force you to compromise your happiness. Embrace the challenges of living and when everything comes crashing down, take a moment, look around and say “Big deal, is that all you have for me?” Lastly, if you are ever in Austin and want to have a picnic, let me know, I’ll see if I can make time in my schedule. Much Love folks and happy Friday baby!


Fantastic clip that should make you smile and the best way to end this post, in my humble opinion :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uzAqDrAwR8

Agenda

Agenda.

A word that allows for endless possibilities. I love writing that as all words allow for this understanding. But, this word will make my working class readers readers cringe as it expresses a list of duties that need to be completed in a set amount of time; otherwise, the day will not be successful.



I have always had an agenda. I think this goes back to my parents. They are people that have to plan out exactly what is going to happen. I remember vacations in which the entire trip was planned out from what time we were supposed to arrive to the time we were to eat. I always wondered, how the heck do they already know when we are going to be hungry?



Agenda is a word that is used to create a plan. It is a word that expresses expectations for something to happen. What I now understand is that agenda’s end up killing the moment. They are created in one moment, to plan out things in the future that may never happen because that moment is not guaranteed.



As with being human, I took on this controlling method of living. I had to have a reason for something. A trip to Austin was thought of and I stated, “We need to go to do something.” I would plan out vacations in which we would stay at three different hotels over five days just to experience which one is best so we would know where to stay on the next trip. I always wanted this structure in the future. I always wanted it to all be mapped out for me; I thought it was easier that way.



Expect nothing and receive everything. When you anticipate something to happen, it will happen, but not be nearly as satisfying as you originally thought. When you expect someone to be something more than what they can offer, they will never fulfill your desires. But, when you understand the beauty in everything and do not need the acceptance of others to confirm your happiness; you will see all of the marvels in human connection.



My life in Austin is beginning to mirror this new approach. I am no longer planning anything. I am learning to be patient. I am learning to be flexible. I am learning to be open. I am learning to be uncomfortable. I am learning to be wrong. I am learning to not be the smartest person in the room. I am learning to be happy with who I am. I am not here to live some one else’s life. I am not here to fit into a mold in which I am not satisfied. I am being selfish by providing unconditional compassion to myself and those around.



We carry so many exhausted emotions into every morning when we wake up that it is difficult to level out the current moments into new experiences. Rather, they just become a forum for our memories. The mornings can be tainted with the fights of the previous days. Or, the glow of a new Love. It is important, as with living a complete life, to understand that each day is independent of the previous or the future. Each day stands on its own in the test of time and you my friend have the mallet to shape that day as you seem fit.



My friend, Nation, arrived Friday evening around 11. The agenda was for us to chill at my house for the night, then make the 8 hour drive the following morning at 4 AM. That was changed the moment he stepped off the plane and we hit the 71 to the Interstate 10 East. A rain was hovering over Austin the entire day and was our travel companion the whole way. The road was lonely. My friend played with his phone. I played in my head. He fell asleep and I talked to myself. I had a debate about how the Cardinals were going to win the game. This concluded when I figured out the exact way my play was going to end, which is going to be fantastic, and I drove a calm body of water as the fog of the morning was being burnt off with the glow of the sun. Everything was grey and we had finally arrived at our hotel. The clock read 7:28 AM.



Realities have caused us to always judge everything prior to it happening. We have already built in conclusions for all of these moments that have never truly happened. We have these ideas of what would happen and that becomes absolute truth as we honestly belief them. There is nothing stronger in this world than the individual conscious with the support of the collected witnesses.



The scoreboard read 45-14. The Cardinals were on the short end of the fence. Nation was exhausted as the laundry list of excuses were running out as we exited the stadium. We were clad in all red and were easy targets in the mass of Gold and Black. No fistfights broke out. There were some heated exchanges as we crossed into the downtown area of New Orleans. One gentleman who was wearing shoulder pads, a faded jersey, a football helmet and wielding a light saber type device was very motivated to make the point that he kicked our asses. I tried to debate with the individual with the point that I did not see him playing, nor did I actually play a down in the game. Therefore, utilizing the possessive pronoun of “we” and “you” was an inaccurate statement. He would be more inclined to state that the team in which he was rooting severely beat the team in which I was rooting. This line of reasoning did not help the situation and it was the quick thinking of Nation to get us away from him as he began to beat the sidewalk with his light saber and a glassy, fierce look overcame his dilated eyes.



It is an interesting phenomenon how a team can truly embody the culture of the fan base. The team played in the same manner as the fans rooted. The spirit of New Orleans, in my brief time there, would be to have fun and be right. It is a city that is built on tourism and the enjoyment of others in the city. I say be right, as I do not think anyone that I encountered ever said sorry nor was their ever a moment to exchange a different opinion. I am not saying that this is not allowed, nor was I ever right or wrong. But, there seems to be a general feel of I am right, you are either with me or against me. Choose your side wisely and lets just have some fun. I think these two theories go hand in hand as everyone would appear to be intoxicated. I can tell you from experience, whenever you are drunk, there is nothing more accurate or pure than the words exiting your mouth no matter how irrational and plan stupid they sound to the audience.



It is also human condition to love instant gratification. We love to be loved immediately. This is not to say that we are lazy, generation after generation have always had the same thoughts. We love to get whatever it is right away. We do not want to work for our reward. We do not want to think or slow down whatever process is happening. We want to make it faster. We wanted it yesterday and tomorrow we are going to be famous. The beauty in life is slowing it down to understand how it is all working. The faster you go, the more you miss.



This is an ongoing assessment of sports in this world, but it still amazes me how much we have invested emotionally to a contest in which we do not have any control of the outcome. Sure, we can go to these games and yell our heads off, but that does not actually effect whatever it is on the field. I am not stating this as the team in which I traveled to see lost, but this is the same when the team in which you are rooting wins. There is either this depression or confidence that is in the complete control of people you have never met. I used to be one of these fans. I used to cry when the Yankees lost and have been known to break things when the Cardinals were denied. I think there is a sense of being self-aware when you do realize just how small these games are and buy into the idea that greater things can be linked to our emotions that we can manage with our own hands.



This is my post about New Orleans. It is not going to be about the game or about the time after. It is more of an assessment of my maturity, I’d like to think at least, as a person. I am no longer one that will plan out every little detail. I am one that will not be upset if we don’t make it to that fourth hotel by the fifth night. I am no longer going to be overwhelmed with the blank spaces on my calendar. I think that I would always get caught up with having a structure, but then complaining about the constraints of it. I know, it is crazy, but I have learned to embrace it all. Take the good with the bad and enjoy them both the same.



I no longer try to hold onto anything. I was always baffled by a lyric written by Bright Eyes. I do not know the exact so I will paraphrase: “Once you Love something, give it away.”



This always stuck with me as I always had this agenda that Love was to be the end product and once it is achieved a vacation was in order. The beauty that I found in that line is that yes, you Love something, now let go before it is ruined. It does not mean let it go, turn your back on it and walk away. Rather, in this current moment you have found Love, but tomorrow it will be changed. Do not settle on Loving for just a few days of your life, Love everyday with the things that are prepared to embrace your heart.



I did survive New Orleans. I am a better person for it and it was truly enjoyable. It was depressing, but depression is good, just as good as happiness if you grow from it.



Moral: The New Orleans Saints are a good football team. Logic is never a good way of reasoning with those whom are intoxicated. Beads have become the currency in the Land of Distraction on Bourbon Street. Embrace everything as it comes to you. And always remember, when everything is negative, you can change your approach or just go to sleep, the sun always comes up the next day. Take care and much Love my friends!


This was my favorite memory of ACL, my favorite Pearl Jam song and a moment that is very fitting to what this blog hopefully accomplished.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3xXAdWVow4