Category Archives: Writing

The Power And Impossibilium

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I dreamt about you last night.

It was the first time in a long while that my unconscious mind has wandered down this road. My conscious mind, aware of time and distance, has been battered by the ravages of war. It still longs for things that can never be.

But while I sleep, an alternate universe is woven like a web that glimmers with a fresh morning dew. And in it, I relive your beauty. 

My gaze falls upon your raven hair and its perfect sheen. I can feel your warmth through our clothes as we sit pressed against one another in an overcrowded car. Your scent penetrates the nostrils of my unconscious self with a delicacy that my conscious mind is no longer able to recall. Your smile delights me and your throaty laugh hints towards a deep, untamed passion. My lips are even allowed a subtle moment to brush your bare shoulder, unnoticed by everyone except you and I. 

Here, in this place created by my memory and my imagination, we are unchanged by the events of our conscious lives. Our past is alive, our present is altered and our future is immaterial. It is the moment and I am cleansed by its purity.

Inevitably, I wake to the realization that it is merely a dream, a reflection of the raw power you hold within my heart. I am moved to tears by the beauty of it and also by its impossibility.

Deep Thinks On The Over-Plan

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Not every post here has to be a novel nor does it have to be Pulitzer-winning material. I need to remind myself of this… and frequently, it would seem. I start writing things and delete them because they aren’t thought out well or my writing is scatter-brained. 

It’s a chronic problem that I have, it’s my way of procrastinating. Instead of just doing it and letting the chips fall where they may, I analyze it and then over-analyze it until I’ve wasted sufficient time that the moment has passed. This problem doesn’t only apply to writing, I do it with a lot of things… come to think of it, I do it in many areas of my life where I’m afraid to take a step into a large or difficult task. I plan and analyze and often don’t get around to executing the plan and accomplishing that which I originally wanted to do. 

Why is this? Introspection on this matter leads me to wonder if it’s because I’m generally afraid to fail. 

Now, I think that a lot of people might just stop there when they’re getting introspective. But that ain’t me, as I’m telling you… I’m an over-analyzer. (And a procrastinator, don’t forget.) So I ask myself, ‘why am I afraid to fail or even produce something that is not good?’ [note that I never use the term ‘good’ because I feel that it’s over-used and ambiguous so to do it here is me trying to make progress] What is it about producing something in any form that is sub-standard that turns me off? 

Is it evidence that I am sub-standard? Is it proof that I am deeply flawed? Will people think of me differently by seeing the crappy fruits of my labor?

My feeling… my realization is that I have to accept that, regardless of what I do, my efforts are always going to be less than perfect in my own eyes and probably in the eyes of those around me. However, I am always doing and producing things that people see whether I am aware of it or not. I am always being judged and need to become comfortable with that. It’s my own imperfection that needs to drive me to be better and stronger rather than hinder or prevent me from moving forward and growing. 

Like that Featured Image up there… I took that photo on my iPhone and then edited it on my iPhone. It’s probably utter shite but it’s my utter shite. I’m just putting it out there and let it be what it is. 

Not perfect. Probably crap. But it’s mine. And I love it. 

Writing? Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That!

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It kind of feels like the traditional blog is dying out there on the Internet. With all of the social media formats out there… you are almost wasting your time by stringing together anything longer than 140 characters because most likely it’s not going to get read. 

I’m on a bunch of these social media sites; Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, SnapChat, Vine… just to name most the popular ones… and it feels like the attention span for content is getting shorter and shorter. Most likely, I’ve already lost half of you that might have started reading this post. 

It’s all become a popularity contest for who can get the most likes the fastest. Content? Fuck the content. Fuck the thought and fuck the integrity. Just give it a like. Maybe it will go viral and I’ll become Internet-famous. 

I fall into the trap too. Coming up with things to write about or sitting down to type my thoughts and feelings out can really be a lot of effort. And I don’t do it often enough. But when it comes down to writing a post here, it’s not about getting popular. It’s not about getting recognized. It’s not about going viral. It’s about getting my thoughts and feelings out and real. It’s about the process… the journey… and not the result or the destination. In the end, I’m writing for me and not for you. 

The Written Word

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I haven’t written anything since the 20th, Day 43. Between this place and my handwritten journal, I haven’t connected with myself in over 3 days. I actually had to write it out to figure out what Day it is.

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Skullmuggery

Hey, I am still working on getting through my first cup of coffee so fuck off. LOL

Anyway, I’ve been dealing with the effects of a flu for the past few days which has not made me overly introspective. At the same time, I started physiotherapy for my shoulder and the exercises are pretty tough; my shoulder and my entire back are a complete mess after doing them. Add the muscle pain and joint ache associated with the flu and… well… I’ve been in a particular little slice of Hell for the past few days.

Well, it’s Christmas-fucking-Eve. December 24th. Despite the fact that I haven’t spent a penny on alcohol, my bank account is still running on empty.

I’ve funnelled all of my limited resources into this friggin’ holiday… and so soon after returning to work. My last paycheck was about ¾ of what it normally would have been since I was on short-term disability leave but with all of the same expenses. I had to get another damn payday loan to buy gifts after all that.

I hate payday loans.

Having spent what I have, I have nothing left until New Years Eve. There isn’t a lot of food in the house and I’m all out of painkillers for my shoulder. But at least I’m almost out of the woods with this flu.

All of this sounds a bit “bah humbug” doesn’t it? Really, I’m not that cranky. I’ll make it through. It’s Christmas time and I’m relaxing right now. I don’t really have anywhere I need to be and having nothing that I really need to do right now. I have as much wrapping done as I can do right now and I have a bowl of Mac N’ Cheese in me guttyworks. It could always be worse.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

The End Is The Beginning Is The End

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Writing is hard.

Well, for me, I always try to write honestly and on a subject that I know something about; writing becomes hard when I’m trying to force it.

I have always believed that there is so much that can be learned about the present and the future by studying the past. It helps to know where you once were to understand where you should be going… where you need to be going. This is why I am doing this, writing about myself so that I can try to avoid making some of the same choices that got me to where I was.

From what I can remember; I used to spend a lot of time trying to forget… to ignore that a person even lived inside this skin. I drank a lot; I lived like escaping into the bottle was committing some kind of poetic, slow suicide. It was the most cowardly method and it seemed appropriate for a coward; a passive allowance with no heady commitment that comes with a firearm or a blade.

Are there a lot of insights that I can take away from what I can remember? I’m really not sure. I’ll keep writing and I guess we’ll see.

The process of addiction is generally a long one and rarely can one moment along that journey be identified as a watershed moment, changing every other moment that happens after it. In contrast, initiating the process of recovery is often the exact opposite. Often, one single moment will tip the balance toward recognition that there is a problem and that something needs to be done about it. Maybe it’s losing your job. Maybe it’s having your husband or wife leave you. Maybe it’s being arrested by the police. Maybe it’s suffering an overdose.

Right at this moment, I accept that when it comes to substance abuse, sometimes it doesn’t matter where you were. Sometimes, what matters is that you acknowledge that you can’t go back there ever again. It’s knowing that every minute of every hour of every day going forward is a battle. It’s choosing to be stronger than the you from before. It’s choosing to go to war against something that wants to destroy you.

A Lost Written Address

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I recognize that this is a terrible bit of prose however it is a part of me growing up.

From 1995:

Now I shall speak simply

And hope you can hear my call.

It’s from within that I reach

To speak of an emotion that has long since been dormant.

Understanding an origin is of no consequence now

My heart now is a speeding train

And nothing can stop it.