The Unshakeable Sadness of Being Alone

So this morning  I was standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, and it dawned on me that I've entered the period where I'm "middle-aged". I'm in my early 30's, which is typically when that stage begins. Now, mind you, I don't feel it at all-I have a little less energy than when I was in my 20's and that's it. I feel, health-wise, that I'm good to go for a few more decades before my body starts to really hate me. But what truly struck me this morning, standing there in my boxers and looking at myself, is the unshakeable and undeniable feeling of being completely alone.

I've never been married, never engaged, and I don't have any children that aren't furry and four-legged.  Even those aren't mine. I'm single and it's looking like I will be for some time. While I am a strongly, strongly independent person; the lack of a companion in my life is starting to wear on me more than I'm willing to admit. I'm beginning to see the merit in being in love as opposed to being alone. And, for those who know me, that's a pretty big revelation for me to have. 

I am saddened by this. Honestly and genuinely. Especially when I began going through the mental list of friends and family members who are in committed relationships and even have families of their own. The list was much longer than I originally first thought and it's one that is ever growing. This is one of those moments where I start re-evaluating everything in my life and start questioning why I am on this journey alone. Have I not found the right person yet or am I not meant to have anyone at all? It's honestly feeling more like the latter than the former. Which breaks my heart knowing that, well, I'll never be good enough for any one. 

When I began my blog, I promised full honesty and this is honestly how I'm feeling and where I'm at. There is no happy ending or "that's just the way things are" to this post. I'm taking this realization pretty hard. I'm starting to feel a hole where a life partner should be and starting to acknowledge that there may well never be one. That my fear of dying alone is a completely valid one. 

The Giving of Thanks

So, here in the U.S. (as well as Canada, Liberia, Grenada and the territories of Puerto Rico and Norfolk Island) we celebrate Thanksgiving. It's a day that we set aside and take the time to acknowledge and appreciate what we have to be grateful for. Families get together, there's a feast, and football is on television. If you don't celebrate it, you're probably familiar with it.

While I could go into a political diatribe on the excessive commercialization of Christmas and how this holiday means little nowadays, but I won't. There is far too much negativity out there and I want this post to be in the spirit of Thanksgiving. So often we take advantage of the things in our lives that we rarely stop and reflect on how blessed we really are. Our jobs, homes, friends, family, the food on our tables and clean water that we drink are all things that many of us don't even think about, yet most of the world is without the barest of necessities. Our freedom of travel, speech, worship, etc. is a foreign concept in many countries. Even though this is 2014, there are those who are persecuted on a daily basis for being the "wrong" gender, believe in the "wrong" religion, be a member of the "wrong" political party, or simply because they live on the "wrong" part of a city.

So, this is why Thanksgiving is so important to me. It's the one day of the year where we express gratitude for what we have and reflect on those not as fortunate as us. Charitable giving goes up expedentially during this time, which is something I love to do and encourage others to do, as well. Not just this time of year, but throughout the year. Because, as the saying goes, you never truly appreciate what you have until after it's gone.

So, with that, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving and may you spend it with those you love.

Who Will Save Your Soul?

Over the past few months, I've been approached with increasing frequency by Mormom missionaries. There's one in particular who I have run into the most. He's a good kid, and in a way I feel bad for him because he's now coming to the realization that I'm not going to attend any services at an LDS church (other than out of passing curiosity). 

I personally don't have anything against Mormons. For the most part, they're good people and I haven't had a single negative experience with a Mormon. My god-family is (well, was, as only a couple of them have retained the faith) Mormon, a good number of my friends growing up are Mormon, and a girl who I had a crush on for years is Mormon. Yet I have no desire to convert and, up until recently, no one has bothered to even try to get me to. 

My spiritual journey is a very private one. I'm not vocal about my faith because, well, honestly the image of Christianity is tarnished enough as it is. While I'm not a terrible person (I hope), I have made some truly terrible mistakes in my life and have even gotten into some heated disagreements with the Almighty. No one truly understands how stubborn I am more than He does and there have been occasions where he has allowed what I pleaded for Him to allow, only so I could go through the heartache of my mistakes and to truly learn from them. I may learn from my mistakes, but sometimes it takes running into that brick wall seven or eight times before I realize there's a reason it wasn't meant to be.

If I could put a summary on my beliefs, it would be the phrase "Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future" (Oscar Wilde). So much so that I'm considering getting it tattooed somewhere. It has been a journey of pain and redemption; an unrelenting cycle of faith and doubt. There is a huge difference in doubting the existence of God and doubting that He knows what he's doing. The Bible is choke full of those who openly questioned God's intentions to his face. Abraham, Job, Jonah, Moses, every one of the disciples, etc. David, whom God called His beloved, questioned Him almost daily on what He was doing. At least half the psalms could be summed up with the phrase "why God why?" Even Jesus, in the Garden, wept tears of blood and asked if there was a way He could be spared His fate. 

Yet, where there is doubt, there is also an unspoken trust that He's got this covered. One phrase that reoccurs with quite frequency throughout both the Old and New Testament "do not be afraid". Two of my all time favorite verses are Matthew 6:34 ("Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own") and John 16:33 ("I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."). Ultimately I do yield to His will because ultimately I do trust Him that He's got this. Quite literally, I am alive today because...well, I don't know why, but He hasn't let me check out yet and there has been more than ample opportunity to do so. Many instances I didn't realize how close I was to death  until after the fact; and had I not listened to the nudges I was getting, I wouldn't be here to type this. But, whatever the reason, I know that in the end, it will have been worth it.

The Five Day Challenge

Late last week, my friend Chris challenged me to take five separate black-and-white photographs over five days, post them on Facebook, and nominate a different person each day. I accepted the challenge and posted them not only on Facebook, but my Instagram page, as well. I took each shot using only my iPhone and the black-and-white filter on Instagram. I enjoyed it so much that I have continued it on for a sixth day (today) and I may go on for at least ten more days. Schedule depending, of course.

So, without further ado, my photos.

So It Begins...

As I have mentioned previously, I work retail. It dawned on me this morning that this is the last "sane" weekend of the year. Next weekend is Black Friday and every weekend after that is a flurry of business from people buying gifts for the holidays. There's also the post-Christmas, pre-New Year's buying spree from people who got money or gift cards for Christmas. 

Which means I probably won't be posting as much and I've officially put my book on hold until January. Also, when I do post, they will probably be brief ones, as free time is about to evaporate competely.

Sticks and Stones

This particular post is something of a touchy one for me. I'm writing it because of an incident that happened earlier this week at a local coffee stand (to which I stopped going to and refuse to ever return); and while I won't be talking about it, I will be talking about why it hit so close to me.

Most of my life I've been short and scrawny. Also, since the third grade, I have worn glasses, which were never the "in" thing until the hipster movement as of late. This means I was an easy target for bullies and throughout most of my schooling, I had a lot of them. Taunting was always the most common form, and despite the nursery rhyme of "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me",  they do hurt. There were even times when it escalated to kids wanting to beat me up because I was a "runt". 

Thankfully I gained some friends who were much taller and tougher than me, which cut down a solid portioning of the bullying I received. There was an incident in junior that I still rembrr vividly when I walked down the wrong area during lunchtime and was stopped by two kids who immediately began to harass me and one of them was about to beat me up. Thankfully, from behind me came rushing three of my much taller and tougher friends who immediately came to my rescue and the two kids who were going to fight me fought them, instead. However, I didn't always have friends who came to my rescue and it didn't always end favorably for me. I learned to fight the hard way and I also learned out to talk myself out of a fight. 

Unfortunately, being a target followed me into adulthood. There was a year when I was mugged twice, and it would have been a third time had I not pulled a knife. When I was living in that particular city, I always had to change my route and schedule to avoid getting "jumped". Even now I have a great disdain for Federal Way (the city in question) because of all that happened there.

As I mentioned in the beginning, it's s touchy subject for me. I believe that I don't have the victim mentality, but when getting tormented by others who thing their superior to you follows you through most of your life, you start to believe them. You start to believe you're an outcast because you don't look like the social norm. You start to believe that you deserve what you get because you're not big and buff. You start to believe that you're stupid for being so smart. You start to believe them that you're not worth it.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me.

On Writing

I have some hobbies-photography and astronomy chief among them, but only one passion. That passion, as I'm sure you would have guessed already, is story telling. I would say writing is it, but I see no value in writing for solely myself. I see no point in journaling and I'm terrible at keeping one; yet I post on here with great frequency because it is my way of sharing my words and my world with others. Even my poetry, which is the most intimate and least shared format, is ultimately meant for the eyes of others, as well as myself. I get great pleasure when others read my work and that is also why I am the most critical of it. If others aren't happy with what I put forth, then I am not happy with my own creation. It's a simple and as powerful as that. 

In the real world, actions speak louder than words, yet when pen meets paper, the implications can be world-changing. For instance, the Declaration of Independence was an act of treason so heinous against the British government that they all would have been executed, had they lost the war. Not one of the individuals who signed it did it lightly; which makes the giant signature by John Hancock that much more of an act of defiance. The ever-idolized Shakespeare lived only for 52 years, yet his works are still venerated centuries after his death. Plato and Aristotle lived long before the birth of Christ, yet both are still the bar to which philosophers rate themselves against. Mein Kampf, a book written by Hitler while he was in prison, would eventually lead to his rise to power and the extermination of the majority of Jews in Europe. The pen truly is mightier than the sword. 

Another way to look at it is the comparison with words and garbage. When they are carelessly thrown around (slang, poor grammar, cheap greeting cards) they become like litter and turn  ugly, like an eye sore. Too much useless language and now you have a landfill of meaninglessness (such as romance novels, pointless Facebook statuses, and terrible Hollywood sequels). They can easily turn something beautiful into something tarnished and ugly. 

I fully understand the implications of my words. Sure, I can be careless as the next person when I speak them, but when it is in the written format (not counting my own banal Facebook statuses and Tweets) I do what I can to make them into an art form. If magic were real, this would be my special brand of it. With pen to paper or keystrokes to screen, I can and do create entire worlds from nothing. Lives are born and perish just as easily. I can freeze time, create a city on Mars, and bring forth deities from my own imagination. With great power comes great responsibility and I am the first to admit that I am my worst critic when it comes to my writing. Which is also why I leave editing to others-otherwise if left in my own hands, I can turn a masterpiece into a slaughterhouse. I can't draw a picture, play an instrument, or even sculpt a simple bowl, but I can make you laugh until you cry or make your heartbreak and bring forth tears using just what I type. While I will never create the literary version of the Sistine Chapel, that doesn't mean I'm not going to try my hardest to.

To put it simply, I write because I have to and because I want to. It's both an addiction and a love affair I have had since as long as I can remember. It is the best way for me to express myself and, many times, the only way. This blog is a guilty pleasure of mine because I get instant gratification from it. I hit "post" and someone halfway across the world could read it. Just like that. The novel I am writing is going much slower because I want to take my time and make it right. It is much more important than my blog (in my own personal opinion and I mean no offense to you, dear readers) because of the craftsmanship I am putting into it. Yet once that is published and put forth into the world, I will move on to my next project, which will become another manuscript, which will become another book, or even series. Once you get the taste, you're hooked. Rest assured, I will not forsake this blog by any means, but you will finally be able to feast upon the banquet of my imagination.

The In-simplicity of Life

So, two things before I begin. The first is that I do want to apologize for my last post. It rambled, made little sense, and was over all extremely poorly written. I was going through something at the time and my attention was otherwise diverted. The second is that I'm writing this as I watch the fire go, which means I'm in a very contemplative mood. So this may seem abstract, but I assure you the writing quality will be a large improvement over the last post. It also means that there will be a second post right after this on the craft of writing. It started forming in my head as I began this post. So, with that said, onward we move.

So, the big reason that I named this blog the Misadventures in the Journey of Life is that life is full of misadventures. Regardess of which path we choose for it to go, it rarely ever goes in that particular direction and never without detours and complications. You could easily claim that life is the most in-exact science of them all and rightly so. Even the title of this blog was not what I wanted: instead of misadventures IN the journey, I wanted misadventures ON the journey and autocorrect changed it before I caught it. I havents changed the title because I thought that even that minor mistake further emphasised the overall feel of the blog. It might seem like a minor thing, but to an artist, there is no such thing. But I digress.

The phrase "following the straight and narrow" has always bothered me because no life's journey is ever that direct and simple. Every choice we make, no matter how mundane and ordinary, follows some sort of consequence-either good or bad. For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction. For instance, you can leave early for work and still be late and vice versa. You could take a detour from work and wind up seeing a different part of the city and see parts of it that you had no idea of its existence beforehand. Life, in the grand scheme of things, is nothing more than a sumeration of events from the most banal to the most exceptional. 

The second thing is that nothing in life is actually simple. A word of kindness can mean the world to someone struggling with depression and a word of indifference can utterly destroy an otherwise good day. Yet, even words like "love" and "hate" mean little when in the context of "I love this song" or "I hate Mondays". Body language, and especially action, resound much more than spoken or written word. For instance, you could claim to love your job one week and quit it the next. Even the most fickle individual can make a permanent impact on something, should they so choose. Indeed, even the most careless actions can lead to permanent consequences. 

I use the phrase "c'est la vie" (which is French for "such is life" when discussing something out of my control. In fact, there is far more that occurs that is out of our control than is in it. Storms are not of our doing and an earthquake could strike any time-day or night. You could be promoted and move into a nice neighborhood and still have the company fold and your house broken into. Or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, you could throw away a seed, and it could still turn into a tree in a landfill. Toss a meal in the garbage that you didn't like and have it become a gourmet feast for a homeless person digging through the trash. Et cetera, et cetera.

So, in closing, my encouragement to you is to embrace the little things in life. Because, one day, those small things could turn out to be the most important parts on your journey. 

One Year Later

So, as I post this, it's been a long day full of productivity and stress. Over the past 48 hours I've had little to eat and probably too much caffeine. I've also been bad about taking vitamin D as of late; so if this blog sounds rather melancholy and scatterbrained, yeah, there's reasons. Anyway, onward.

So, tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of me moving back from the San Antonio area to the Seattle area. It's hard to believe that it's only been one year, considering all that has happened during time. But, before I go into that, allow me to talk about my feelings on the time I spent in the Lone Star State. Also, I would like to add that this post may be the longest yet for me to post. There is much rattling around in my brainpan and tomorrow marks a very important milestone for me.

To be completely frank, I very much had a love/hate relationship. I spent my entire life in the Pacific Northwest before moving down there and it was the first time in my life where I was truly on my own, living my life. I learned much about myself during that rather brief period; but, what I did not know at the time, was that it was only the beginning of my growing pains. Texas, as you probably have heard, is hot. What you might not know (I certainly didn't until I moved down there) is that there are large parts of the state that are exceptionally humid. Not quite on the level of Florida, but definitely in the same neighborhood. I had immensely high expectations for the area before I uprooted my life and became a transplant. The economy was fantastic, the cost of living low, and wages and job market better than most of the country. All of this proved to be completely true. Barely four months after moving down there, I was hired on as a banker, which is a huge precedent considering the fact that I had spend most of the previous year completely unemployed and was considering myself unhirable. For the first time in my adult life, I had what I considered to be a respectable career with a respectable company. Well, it was out of retail, anyway.

The hardest part I had with Texas was the fact that it wasn't home. To be completely fair, I don't think I ever fully gave it the chance that it deserved. I was homesick within six months of being down there and that feeling never left until after I moved back. The San Antonio area was green, sure, but not the right kind of green (if that makes any sense). Gone were the tall trees, the seasons, the mountains, and plentiful water. The rain was different down there. The people. The food. Actually, the food down there was something I adapted to quite easily and the biggest thing I miss about Texas. Brisket. Heavenly, mouth watering, taste orgasm that is brisket. Good lord, I miss the brisket. And the homemade queso and salsa... Oh, and let's not forget the Shiner beer. That was something I am so glad that I can find up here.

Anyway. one of the biggest changes I had down there was the seemingly demise of my social life. Up here I have a plethora of friends and family to spend time with. Down there, it was my sister, her family, her husband's family, and a smattering of coworkers and the band circle. My brother-in-law was in one band before forming his own and many of the group carried over. So, while the number of people that I spent time with shrank drastically, the bonds were that much stronger. I also was able to knock off something on my bucket list shortly after going down there- Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Which, in all honesty, not as much fun as Mardi Gras in Austin. It's good to say that you've done it, but of the two, go to Austin where you can really enjoy yourself. Austin, by the way, was and still is my favorite city in the Lone Star State. And a large part of that is because it reminds me so much of Portland, Oregon. These two cities that are many miles apart could be twins (if municipalities had siblings). I have a soft spot in my heart of the truly eccentric people of this planet (one I will more than willing to admit that I am one of) and both cities have oddity in spades. I would actually say that I prefer Austin over Portland due to the music festivals, food, and the all around awesomeness of the town-especially 6th Street.

Sorry, I digress once again. The hardest part I had about being in Texas for almost two years was that I was completely alone and completely out of my element. Instead of adapting, which is normally what I do when I move to a new location, I subconsciously fought it tooth and nail. I let the early pangs of homesickness grow into a self-inflicted resentment of my new surroundings. In retrospect, it wasn't that I didn't make many friends because I lacked opportunity (just the opposite, actually), but because I didn't want to create bonds with people I knew I would eventually be leaving. I knew from the get-go that Texas wasn't going to be a final destination for me, but I wasn't giving the place the true potential it deserved. And that, I will say, I regret fully.

Which brings me to the second part of this post, and I would say the most important part: The transition back. In case I haven't mentioned it previously, I was originally offered a position with Chase from a recruiter over the phone. The position was back home and making significantly more than was I was making at the bank I was working at. A massive step up, in my eyes, so I jumped at the opportunity that seemed too good t be true. It was. Again, hide-sight being what it is, I should have looked into it further before making such a monumental move once again. I was, in all honesty, too eager to move back, so I didn't bother to look the gift horse in the mouth. What was, what I thought to be a sure thing turned out to be just the opposite. The manager at the location I was to work at didn't even know who I was or why I was coming in there. He gave me a brief interview on the spot and promised to look into it for me. Two months later I finally gave up all hope of getting the job I thought I had.

It was, actually, not long after I moved back that I spiraled into a deep depression. Everything that I had tried my hardest to prevent was happening and happening way too fast. This, actually would become the theme for most of this year. The more I try and prevent events from unfolding, the more certain they have of actually occurring. I tried, at first, to find other jobs within the financial field, but was met with the roadblock of me not having a college degree or not enough experience. I tried hard to stay out of retail, so I took temp jobs instead. First at a warehouse in the next city over making and bailing insulation. I lost weight and gained a lot of muscle. Then came the data center where I did data entry. It was there that I got the idea to start this blog and, honestly, that was the best thing to come out of that place. There was a brief period of unemployment before getting the job selling television commercials to small businesses. Since that was straight commission, that didn't last and I moved on to Walgreens. There, I was in a "leadership" position, but really found myself being not much more than a stock-boy and a cashier. The pay was better than anything I had had previously, but I had issues with the Payroll department the entire time I worked there. Which leads me to where I work now and the amazing opportunity that it was to seriously fall in my lap.

I am now the manager of a kiosk that sells high end skin care (and makeup). Yes, it is once again retail, but it is the manager position that I have pursued since I essentially started working back in high school. Yes, the stress and pressure to succeed is high and the days are long, but this role has fit me like a glove and already the cart has prospered more than it has in years. Instead of wilting under the great responsibility, I'm thriving on it. This is my stand with my crew and I am allotted to do with it as I please. I have finally tasted the sweet nectar of success and I find it perfectly sweet.

My personal life has undergone a deep evolutionary process, as well. Friendships have been born, more have been rekindled, and more than a few have been destroyed by my own hand. I have made some grave mistakes-some that go against everything I believe in of myself and go fully against my character. I admit full responsibility for my actions and I place blame on no one but myself for what I have done. I also learned early on after coming back that people changed drastically while I was gone. I had to work infinitely harder at the friendships I once took for granted. Even now the bonds aren't as strong as the time before I left. Yet, the friendships forged in fire have become stronger than ever.

I will say that, while the general mood and feel of this post is grim, allow me to point out that I am stronger than I have ever been. Had it not been for the harsh consequences of the recent past, I would not know fully what I am made of or what I can endure. This storm, if you will, has been a very valuable learning tool to which I plan on rebuilding the rest of my life on. I now know that the things I once took for granted are anything but and if I am to grow and prosper, I need to roll up my sleeves and maybe get a little dirty. I also have a much more realistic understanding on what it takes to write a book and I am pleased to say that I am ready to take the plunge

On that note, I must bid you ado once again. This day has been long and not the easiest on me. Yet, even today I learned a valuable lesson and will grow from it.                                                                                                                                                                  

Surfing the Tsunami

So, one thing about me is that the older I get, the more competitive I become. I've always been a stubborn person (which is probably an understatement at this point), but now I've reached a point where telling me "no" or that I cannot achieve something is just going to prompt me to prove you wrong and overcome. I have defied the odds too many times to allow the odds to stop me.

The famous Dodgers coach Tommy Lasorda once said that "The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man's determination." Any time some one tells me that something cannot be done, I ask "Why not?" or "Have you tried?" Now, I'll give you that there's certain things, such as breathing in space or spontaneously sprouting wings and flying, that truly are impossible. But, for the most part, the only limitations are the ones that we impose upon ourselves (or allow others to impose upon us).

What does this have to do with my current circumstances? Well, a lot, actually. Number one is that I'm completely behind on my book. As in, I barely have over a thousand words and the goal is 50k by November 30th. Yup, step odds there. I also (as of less than a month ago), became the manager of a kiosk that sells high end skin care products and makeup. We already had a steep goal and the big boss decided to increase it even more by quite a bit. And this is the last fiscal week of the month to achieve it. Yeah...

But, you know what? Challenge accepted. Seriously. In just the small amount of time that I've been in charge, there has been a sizable increase in profit. It was a kiosk that was barely scraping by to one that is killing it on the weekends (and doing marginally okay during the week). I crunched the numbers last night and it's looking like we can still make it. You better believe I'm going to do everything in my power to make that happen.

So, to those who say it can't be done, allow me to remind you that there's footprints on the moon and a guy skydives from space. And just this month we put a probe on a comet using a calculator on Earth. So, yeah, tell me I can't do something. I'm too busy doing what you never thought was possible.

What Do You "Know"?

While on the bus yesterday, I overheard two guys, both white and either in their late teens or early twenties, discussing racism in the state of Texas. One guy was telling the other that the closer you get to the border, the worse it gets. I, having lived almost two years near the city of San Antonio, piped up and asked him if that's where he's from. He turned and told me that he had never actually been to Texas. He said that, from what he read on the Internet that he felt quite knowledgeable on the subject. I told him that I lived there for a while, and where I was at, there was zero tolerance for racism. He didn't believe me until I pulled out my Texas ID and showed it to him. There was a prompt change of subject and I went back to my game of cribbage on my phone.

So, that's what this post is going to be about: What do you "know". We live in an age where information is literally at our fingertips. I can read about Jack the Ripper and the daily lives of those in Mesoptamia with ease. But, while there is a plethora of actual knowledge, there is even more disinformation out there from people posing to be scholars. And everyone seems to be a scholar on everything nowadays.

Now, it is possible that there is rampant racism in border cities like El Paso; but having never been there, I'm not going to claim any knowledge on the subject. However, San Antonio is far enough south for me to speak up on the matter. The point is that I have first hand experience of the area that he was speaking about. I also try and not claim to know something I don't know anything about. Not without researching it immensely first. In my humble opinion, it is better to spread small truths than large lies.

The other point I'm trying to make is that, with so many dime store digital sages, debate has been replaced with flame wars. We have become so polarized by the illusion of information that nothing is discussed at length on an impersonal level any more. The more open-minded we pretend to be, the more close-minded we are towards anyone who threatens our individual world views. Plato has been replaced with pundits and Socrates with saccharine sites containing snipits of  facts. The web has become a digital fast food buffet to which we gladly tuck in our napkins and feast upon data created by the wizards behind the curtain. There is a saying that "Unless we stand for something, we shall fall for anything." (Peter Marshall, U.S. Senate chaplain, 1947). I would amend this (mainly because everyone stands for something nowadays) to saying "Unless we research something, we shall fall for anything."

Yes, I realize this tangent is completely different than what I normally post about, but it's a topic that has become a bit of a pet peeve of mine. We live in a world now where everyone "knows" everything and discusses nothing. Everyone is trying so hard to be smarter than everyone else, but no one is bothering to be wiser than anyone. 

I Should Be Writing...

Yeah, I'm very behind for NaNoWriMo. I fully realize this. But, at present, it's just past 11pm, I've been home for twenty-ish minutes, I've just finished dinner, and I'm bloody tired. It's not happening tonight. 

Instead, I'm going to address what happened a couple posts back. To be blunt, my brain can be a real dick to me. I'm not always that bad, but this time of year I get bouts of melancholy that take hold and drag me into the depths of despair. Sometimes it's a major event, and sometimes it's something minor. There's even times when I just wake up bummed out. 

If you've never had depression, count yourself very lucky. Mine is most certainly hereditary on my mom's side. We're also a family of highly intelligent people, and you know what they say about the line between genius and insanity. With us, it's the wicked doldrums and, considering all that's happened to me, it's not surprising that I have it in spades. Thankfully, I'm a writer, so I have an outlet for when it gets too bad. Usually it's in the form of blogposts and poems. I try and not write depressing stories because that will only bring me further down. 

Any time I come forward with my depression, it generally surprises people. On the outside, I'm lively, humorous and (as I've been describe many a time) intense. Yet, to use the iceberg metaphor, there's a lot going on underneath. It can also be the mask I'm wearing because I don't want to deal with what's bothering me. I can and will hide my feelings if I choose to not acknowledge them. Sometimes that's the only way I can deal with the depression; rather than risk being pulled underneath by it. 

But what about suicide? Well, to be blunt, that is not a topic I'm going to discuss. Period. All I will say on the matter is that I fully realize how beautiful and brief this life is. I have seen with my own eyes how swiftly and easily life can end. Death is a very, very personal topic and one I much prefer discussing in person.

So what do I do when it gets bad? As in, really, really bad? There's two people who I talk to. Both of whom also struggle with depression and I've saved the life of one of them more than once. We talk it out and they help me try and get to the root of what is truly bothering me. They both know that sometimes it really just is my brain being a dick and they help me move forward. More often than not I'm lacking something: sunlight, vitamin D, vitamin B, caffeine, etc. Well, everyone knows when I'm lacking caffeine.

But, anyway, I wanted to address why I dropped so low. I'm...getting better. My brain is still trying to be a dick to me. Butt I'm pushing through it and doing my best to move forward. On that note, I'm heading to bed. Night, all.

The Story Behind My Story

So, as promised, this post won't be a "woe-is-me, I hate my life" kind of post. Disappointment is nothing new in my life; but that one smarted more than I thought it would. Good news is that I've upped my vitamins and focusing on work and my book. Onward and upward, if you will.

So, speaking of my book, it's not going as well as I originally planned. I had (have) a great idea for the book, but I didn't have any connection with the main character. That is tantamount to utter failure unless you find a way to fix it. Which, with me, came in the form of an epiphany while waiting for a bus. Which, any writer will tell you is quite common. At least 90% of writing happens in your head long before the words enter the page. The epiphany, and the connection is this: I made my main character an alcoholic. 

Now, thank God, I am not an alcoholic, but I have family that is and, if memory serves me right, on my biological father's side, it was a bit of an issue. One of many, many, many issues. But I digress. The strongest connection I have with the disease is that I was in love with someone who was in love with the bottle. Well, I'm not sure if she actually loved to drink. To be honest, I doubt she did. Yet she was bound to it stronger than any chain. 

Now, I'm not sure if she's fully aware of how much I loved her. It started as friendof a friend, which quickly turned into us becoming friends. I had a crush on her from the get-go, but never pursued it because I didn't think I stood a chance. We grew close, through phone calls and Facebook, not to mention the times we actually spent together. And the closest we came to a relationship happening was right when I moved to Texas. 

We kept in close touch through the first year of me being down there. But she, not surprisingly, found a boyfriend and communication fell by the wayside. Which is putting it nicely. Essentially she dropped off the face of the Earth and many people who she was once close to no longer are in contact with her. 

I was, and still am, for the record, supportive of her through her struggle. I never have, nor will I ever hold her demons against her. We all have our secret battles and private scars. I am far from perfect and hold no illusion thereof. I learned many things from her struggle and I hope to pass them on to my character in a way that truly represents the hell that addiction truly is.

I'm not writing this for myself, which is why it holds greater importance with me. I do this to honor my long lost friend and I am even going so far as to dedicate it to her, once it's published. 

So, there you have it. One more piece of the shifting puzzle for you. I hope this post finds you well. Take care and take care of yourselves out there.

And Down I Go

So, recently I entered a raffle that I was really hoping I would win. I rarely enter these things and I had bought a bunch of tickets, so I figured my chances were good on actually winning. 

Fast forward to today. I had the day off and spent some time with a good friend of mind and watched the extended edition of The Desolation of Smaug. A great day, by all means, up until it dawned on me that today was the drawing and I didn't get a phone call. And down I go.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, this isn't even a blip on the radar. I rarely win anything I enter, so this shouldn't have come as a surprise at all. And let's be honest, I was hardly the only person who had entered the raffle. But this was one of those things where I let myself get my hopes up about, only to lose. So, yeah, I'm disappointed, more in myself for allowing myself to be optimistic about this. I should have known better.

So down I go. My mood, at present, is rather grim. The depression has re-awoken and is rearing its ugly head once again. Insomnia is kicking in, to boot.  This downward spiral is pretty common between the months of October and May. It doesn't take much to knock me down far. And, in many, many cases, keep me down. It also didn't help that the weather turned cold, dark, and wet as I made my way home.

The good news is that I do know the counterbalance to the ever-present darkness within. Well, as close to a counterattack as I'll ever have. It will never go away completely. But with this particular time of year and how it affects me is that I need to start taking and using my vitamin D and B complex consumption. As well as get back on the fish oil supplements (I'm not really a seafood person) and increase my caffeine consumption even more than I already do. Plus make sure that I'm getting enough iron and protein. And forcing myself to watch funny shows and movies. Yeah...

So, here I am. Blogging so I don't dwell any longer. Sitting up in bed, trying to think of ways to distract myself until sleep finally comes. If it finally comes. Wishing I wasn't so "high maintenance" and wishing I could handle life like everyone else does. Wishing my brain wasn't broken. And, most of all, wishing I wasn't alone so I could finally stop feeling like I'm alone in this world. 

Sorry this post sucks. I promise the next one will be better.

Tell Her She's Beautiful

Tell her she's beautiful. You don't have to give her flowers or cards (although both are nice) to show her you care. All you have to do is tell her she's beautiful. And, of course mean it.

Tell her she's beautiful because she lives in a world that tells her she's not. She lives in a world that tries to tear her down, day by day. She lives in a world that makes her feel as imperfect as possible. She lives with a mind that does the same as the negativity that she's subjected to. So tell her she's beautiful.

She doesn't have to be your wife and lover. She could be your best friend, your sister, your mother. She could be the coworker who's having a bad day or the waitress who brought the wrong food (well, maybe not that far, but you get the idea). She could be the random lady on the bus who appears to be near tears. No matter who she is, tell her she's beautiful. Because you may be the only person who has.

Falling Behind

So...yeah...it's three days into NaNoWriMo and I'm already way behind. My lofty thoughts of doing 5,000 words a day and finishing it in ten days have gone down like the Hindenburg. Even now, instead of writing my book, I'm writing this post. I would also like to add that I also have a cat on my lap and they are not the most conducive to the formation of novels. No matter what the Internet tries to convince you of.

I blame work, and work has been very time consuming. There is no denying that. When I spend the vast majority of my day either at work or traveling to and from, it does significantly cut down on my writing time. Although, if I'm going to be truly honest with myself (and you) the real reason is that my energy levels have taken a severe nosedive and the big reason for that is that I'm sleeping horribly. I wake up stiff and still tired and this morning I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept at all. When I'm tired like this, writing is not the most desirable thing in the world. Well, creative writing. This blog is requiring little thought so I have no issue writing it.

I'll try and put words to screen tonight, but my new plan is to take my laptop with me to work tomorrow and write on my "breaks". I need to do something to catch up. I have the following two days of from work, so that is when I will also be knocking out as much as I can.

On the upside, I do love the premise and the main character already. There's a lot of promise with this one and I'm really hoping it doesn't turn out reading like a rush job. I'm going to do everything possible to make it as good as possible with what time I have left. Who knows-maybe I'll achieve my desired word count on my days off. I hope so, anyway.

Well, I do need to sign off now. My novel beckons as well as my bed.

The Fight Inside

So, there are few people who know the true me. All about me. My past, my future, my hopes and dreams. It's a lonely life, this reality. 

To be honest, it's not that I hide it. To be honest, I welcome someone to join me in this journey of mine. Yet, here I am, alone. I have gone so long in this path that I really don't know how to let someone in. But, who I am, I am not one to let one in lightly. It's been a difficult journey and trust is not an easy thing I give to others. It's a path that I have let others join and it has...gone awry. To say the least. Yet I continue down this path alone and it is mine to continue.

So, there it is. I wish you all and I hope you continue with me in this little sliver I give to you.