Popped Cherries

I’m typing this on literally a 12 year old computer.
It’s frustrating that there is almost a 2 second lag if I start typing more than 20 WPM.
I’ve wanted to start making updates again on a regular basis, but this is just overly frustrating and not conducive to any sort of productive thought.
New hardware, top of the line, is coming in about a week. I’ll be back after that and I can get this show on the road.
For the first time in a long time, there is an underlying excitement, that magic glean in my eyes.
This bodes well for no one.

I woke up today and realized, quite frankly, I’m a fuck up.
It’s one of those things you don’t ever want to admit about yourself, but once the evidence piles on itself over and over, it’s a bit hard to avoid.
How many times do you need to check your bank account balance and see it’s overdrawn for the 4th time in a month to understand the merits of a budget?
Is there a limit to how much money you try to extract from your parents before you might want to understand that life line won’t always be there?
Can you get your license suspended 3 or more times before it’s beaten into your head you might want to take care of those tickets and taxes?
How many pointless jobs can you go through before you finally realize you have the ability for more if you just go for it with your all?
How can you be handed a game plan on a silver platter, the means to execute, and the time to follow through, yet just sit there frozen? Blank.
What does it take to finally get the push you need?
Is it horror?
Is it pain?
Is it loss?
Is it happiness?
Pride?
Love?
Sex?
Hope?
Money?
Nothingness?
Is it anything?
How can you be so…yet so…
How will it all end?
Will it ever end?
What becomes of the ones who want, but never do?
I don’t suppose you hear about them all that often.
The voice of the chosen voiceless….

Sigh.
I’m thinking of going in a different direction. On this site. In my art. In my time. In my life.
It’s always been a struggle to “figure out” exactly what it is I’m doing.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just zoned out for weeks on end, living on a couch in my head. Trying to whittle down exactly why the fuck and who the fuck is walking around in my skin.
I look to others for some kind of kinship, but I’m usually left with blank stares and awkward head nods.
It’s not surprising. Who can understand yourself better than you?
To feel such a lack of connection though, it’s disturbingly rough. Disheartening.
What stings the most though is having a thousand pieces scattered about, but no guide or map to help make a puzzle.
Instead of advancing, I waste hours of time trying to arrange things so there is at least a semblance of…something. Anything.
I definitely fault my upbringing for leaving gaping holes in my ability to resolve issues.
It’s not a parenting problem and I refuse to scapegoat something I can barely remember.
I think it’s more of a cog in the machine type mentality that got me to where I am right now.
People aren’t taught how to NOT be that cog. They are taught to become part of the machine. An entire education system revolves around being a new gear to replace a dying one.
I’ve never once been taught or encouraged to think for myself by any educational institution I’ve attended.
It’s always been, “Learn these facts and report on them” or “This is an idea someone else had, don’t question it’s validity because you aren’t qualified to do so”.
A lifetime of reinforcement you are nothing but a future part of the system and there’s little you can do to fight that.
The big question is what do you do when you don’t want to be that shiny new cog in someone’s machine?
Who do you turn to when you want to learn how to be your own tinkerer? Maybe one day living off the grid.
Where do you start when you want to have a little for yourself?
Where do you go?

I have recurring dreams.
Some are better than others.
They would all fall under the title of “Nightmares”, but realistically, they aren’t very scary.
Usually, I’m with a small group of archetype characters who I’ve never met, then I’m forced into a house or a hotel to defend myself from roaming zombies.
That’s another constant. Large buildings with multiple rooms and corridors and just an expanse of awesome set pieces.
There I am, fighting my way through, seeing some people die here and there. Some of the people in the group get bitten and we have to put them down.
There sometimes are animal zombies. Little yippy lap dogs and talking rats thirsty for my brains. Crazy shit.
Trying to determine what’s going on in my sub-conscience is the most frustrating part.
I’m not always a believer in dreams = knowledge, but when you have recurring patterns in your life, it’s difficult to leave alone and not try to extrapolate data from it.
There I sat, 5:47am trying to figure it all out.
I’m left with three thoughts.
1. I’m walking through life like a zombie. (likely)
2. I’m so isolated from the world that everyone around me feels like the walking dead. (possible)
3. My life is meaningless and nothing I have done, am doing, or will do makes any sense or point and I’m deluding myself into thinking it does. (plausible)
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have one of my tornado dreams to really round out a mentally challenging week.

I had a few interesting moments trying to fall asleep last night. I was begging my mind to create me the ultimate of stories. Something I could turn into gold. My own personal touchstone.
I received startling information.
My mind can’t think under pressure.
That’s untrue.
I did have a few fabulous ideas.
Mountain moving?
Perhaps.
Run of the mill?
More than likely.
I’ve been overflowing with thoughts of creativity as of late, but it’s mostly just fell onto blank paper.
What’s the use of being an idea man?
Who in the history of the world has ever been given credit for being the guy that had an idea?
It’s always those that, at the very least, make it past the idea phase and into some sort of pre-production.
You don’t see Kevin Smith sitting at his house podcasting from his living room because he had a really cool idea for a movie he never made.
You don’t see J.K. Rowling sitting in cafes sipping coffee and checking her billion dollar bank account because she thought about a boy wizard, but never fleshed out the story.
You don’t see Bezos, fucking Bezos, in his Gulfstream because he thought it would be a really cool idea to launch a website for online merchandise, but never secured the domain name Amazon.
History is full of people who made their ideas come to life.
Out of the ether.
Epic tales don’t tell themselves.

So this is what it feels like to stick to a schedule, commit to doing something, and actually following through with it. Interesting.
It’s sad that I’ve finally figured out the underlying motivation needed for writing in this blog on a weekly basis when the top billing story is that the world as we know it is going to be gone tomorrow.
On May 21st, 2011 the rapture is going to take place. That is, if you  believe in that sort of thing. Not just the Christian part, but religion across the board.
I used to be very involved with the matters of faith. I’ve gone to church willingly and excitedly. I’ve prayed my heart out. I’ve sung the mighty songs of salvation and love.
I’ve also seen all of the wonderful nonsense that goes along with belonging to a religion. Belonging to a group.
It’s the ultimate of mindfucks. It’s one of the last tenants that is segregating the world into cliques instead of moving past fairy tales and myths towards the actual betterment of our species.
I understand the want, the need to be attracted to what others are doing. Everyone feels it. Being an outsider, an outcast, an unwanted, isn’t fun at all.
Having a world wide banner to attach your name, who wouldn’t want that kind of comfort, that feeling of being needed.
I digress.
The matter at hand though is quite simple. The world will continue to exist far past May 21st, 2011. It will exist far past Oct 21st, 2011. It will exist past Dec 21st 2012.
The sad fact is that people are going to continually seek the end. We as humans aren’t really good at imagining things beyond our own scope of understanding and our own scope of sight.
If it doesn’t affect our immediate surroundings, it may hold some significance, but for the most part it is just brushed aside as being inconsequential.
One of the things we gravitate to is the end. Always looking for the completion. A task. A book. The movie of the week. We always want to know what’s going to happen.
When that option isn’t available, we cram it into something we can work with.
This leads to prophetic number and date wringing . “New” interpretations of ancient text. Nature lining up showing us something interesting, but ultimately nothing more than a coincidence.
I’ll be glad when this world exists for another 1000 years and we can finally distance ourselves from all of these ancient texts.
When time will hopefully outlive stupidity.

What talent.
What promise he shows.
What a future he has in front of him.
You’ll only see this sort of thing once in your lifetime.
If there was ever a time to be a fan, this would be that time. It doesn’t get any better than this.
These comments, they’ve never been directed towards my life. It has never been an easy road. Never a downhill fall. Always an uphill climb.
It’s preferred though. Who doesn’t like a good challenge. Who can’t say they’ve been at their best when they are pushed to their limits. Safety is boring. Mystery is my Muse.
At some point though, your Muse is killed. You’re left with your own devices. Your strengths and every ant hill of weakness.
How can you survive when your driving force is now gone? What’s left to push you towards your best?
Some say religion. Some say money. Some say love. Some say lust. Some are just silent.
You chase the dragon you once rode. Wanting the sunsets you once worshiped.
Or you die. Your promise gone, your memories distant.
Your life, nothing but a pile of dust.
Death must come and kill us all.
But it won’t come for me.
I’ll cheat it’s touch.
I’m eternal.

I’ve wasted my talent, my time, my effort with nothing to show for it but empty fists raised late at night. Cursing the sparkles in the sky. Who can  live like that. I can’t anymore.
I’ve spent the last 2 months with nothing but time, potential, and limitless chances to over come.
It’s time to put away the self doubt and the endless array of excuses and the good ideas that always stay just that.
Don’t ever doubt me again you’ll miss it all.
I’m coming out of my hibernation to start anew. It’s been a long time coming, but I can honestly say it’s the last time I can realistically let it slip.