Poetry is for suckers!

Sitting in my cube

Boredom is abounding here

I just ate white out

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I just sold my soul

One dollar is all I got

Ha Ha it was broke

-

Nobody likes you

Your mom thinks you smell like paint

I think she is right

-

Blogging does nothing

My computer hates me now

I think you do too

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Indians like corn

Sometimes they like to watch porn

Want to see my bow

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We all want to fuck

Sometimes holy sometimes not

I think that's OK

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Where words are many

Your dumb ass is always there

Shut the fuck up please

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Hai Ku's are funny

Sometimes they don't make sense yup

I don't really care

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It is time to leave

I did not sell a damn thing

My boss still loves me

Heroes

I'm under the impression that most of us learn something new everyday. If you don't, you're just not trying. Maybe it's a fact or a new skill, usually facts or a random tidbit of news regarding some aspect of our world.

Last week one of my co-workers told me about a talent I possess that I was unaware of. Apparently, I have the ability to hum or rattle off a few lyrics of a song in passing that manages to get stuck in his head for the remainder of the day. Honestly, I find that strange, because I also wield another talent, butchering perfectly sung songs when I attempt to bellow to my co-workers.

It may not be much and some may consider it embarrassing that they can't sing, but I revel in the fact that I have a new super power. Oh and another guideline of my ability, I can't be trying to wedge these anthems into his mind. It all has to be coincidental. I'm not sure how I feel about a power that I can't control.

With great power comes great responsibility.

There's a first time for everything.

For someone who usually has something to say about everything, I'm at a loss of words or at least a clear thought right now. I feel good though and I'm proud of myself for trying. It may be small and I don't even considered it that big of a deal, but I really appreciate those of you who have been reading my ridiculous blog over the last year an a half.

Your comments, thoughts and words of encouragement make it all worthwhile. If it hadn't been for you I would've never even thought about attempting this. Thank you!

I'm glad Al Gore created the internet.

I have recently become the smartest man alive. I’m serious. Let me explain.

Do you ever wonder what happens to old bands or maybe famous people who died 20 years ago? You think maybe that “old dude” bit it by rocking out too hard, but you later find out that it was cancer. I’ve been thinking about random famous people lately that I have no clue what the hell happened to them. By not knowing it doesn’t detract from my overall genius, but I’ll explain that later as well.

While driving to work this past week I was listening to Johnny Cash and Joe Strummer’s rendition of Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song”. As soon as the song finished up I spun my Ipod clickity click wheel over to Bob Marley and rocked out. Well, I guess I actually mellowed out. Everyone likes Bob Marley, don’t they?

While Bob was singing to me it crossed me young mind, “What the hell happened to him?” I saw a behind the music on Bob a few years back and I think he died from cancer, but I wasn’t sure. The HR lady at the company I work for came by my desk later that morning and she so happens to be from Jamaica. She confirmed that he died from cancer and even told me a story about how Bob Marley’s following was considered a cult when she was a teenager. Her grandmother even yelled at her one time for having a belt with the same colors of his logo at the time. That just goes to show that (grand) parents are crazy no matter what country they’re from.

Every generation’s parents will yell at them for something that they don’t understand. My dad used to yell at me for listening to punk rock music and hanging out with kids who colored their hair pink. I’m sure his dad gave him shit for hanging out with kids who wore their pants too tight and greased their hair. When I have kids I’m probably going to ground them for hanging out with robots who ride their hover boards too fast in traffic. It’s a vicious cycle.

My new favorite thing to do on the internet is to look things up on wikipedia.com (it’s a web-based free-content encyclopedia project, if you didn’t already know). That fucking website is a life-changer. I’m instantly the smartest person alive (when I’m sitting in front of a computer). Ever wonder where John Wilkes Booth was born? Yeah, me neither, but since I think you need to know, he was born on a farm in Bel Air, Harford County, Maryland. Did you know that Jimi Hendrix was once kidnapped for two days by New York mobsters back in September of ’69? I told you I’m the smartest man alive. Don’t doubt me.

Wikipedia is great because it allows all of us to be factually brilliant, for the most part. People have been known to change certain details on the site, but that’s usually pertaining to politics. No one is going to change the historical fact that “Weird” Al’s first accordion lesson was on October 22^nd, 1966 the day before is 7^th birthday.

With all of that said, smartest man alive might be a little bit of a stretch, but maybe smartest man alive at random trivia when sitting in my cubicle is closer to an absolute truth.

Excerpt from The Princess Bride:

Vizzini: Let me put it this way. Have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?
Westley: Yes.
Vizzini: Morons

Demons

It seems as though everyone is plagued by personal demons, things that hold us back from who we truly are and keep us from developing into who we want to be. Our fears and short-comings translate into either a lack of motivation or a cerebral padded cell that that puts our mind into a psychological straight jacket. Constricted limbs offer no aid as we contend with what binds us. Our screams wouldn’t be heard even if we could utter the noise that is a scream. Sometimes you forget what it sounds like to talk when you have no one to converse with.

Objectively looking inward, I realize that we are the only ones holding ourselves back. We wrestle with a fictitious figure that we created. Our oppressor is as non-existent as Tyler Durden. We breathed life into our negative feelings and gave them power over their Creator. We keep ourselves locked up. The door to the cell is open. It always has been.

The hardest part about all of it is realizing that you’re actually enslaved. For some it’s obvious, but I think most people have been lied to and belittled for so long by those that supposedly love them they begin to believe and go down the road of self-deception. A lot of us have good families and friends that build us up, but maybe we become so self-centered and focused on the outside world that when they say you must be “this” to fit in or dress like “that” to be beautiful that we forget what we want and who we are.

False truths and facades that surround us everyday keep us from realizing our full potential. They taint how we view ourselves. They make us forget about our dreams and what we wish to accomplish in life. I don’t think a lot of us have a clue of what we want to do, but I think it lies deep inside and as we pull back the curtains and get closer to truth, it starts to become clear.

Dreams to me are what lies inside and sometimes you have no fucking idea what they are, but when you pull back the curtains and get closer and closer to truth it reveals itself. A lot of people are already doing something that is a part of their dream. They just don’t realize it yet.

We’ve been given this gift of life, it’s ours. We can do what we want with it. We can fulfill our hearts longings or we can wander around aimlessly in a shit storm. No matter what you believe, I think we all have a reason to live and that reason lies deep within.

When I use to go to church they would sometimes say “Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired?” I always thought that was some lame “holy roller” talk, but looking back, there is some truth there. Honestly, you just have to get fed up of being restrained and just throw inhibition to the wind.

What do you have to lose anyway? Why do prisoners with a life sentence try to escape? What’s the worse thing that can happen? Failing in the process of trying to break free only places you back where you started or possibly even death. Many are already mentally and spiritually dead from their oppression. You can see it in their eyes.

You have to be defiant and break free of what you’ve allowed yourself to believe and be burdened with. I personally choose to raise a middle finger, to what imprisons my thoughts and what holds me as a captive to mental slavery.

We must choose to live. We are the only ones who can live our lives and bring our dreams to fruition.

You have to know the answer to this question! If you died right now, how would you feel about your life?

-Tyler Durden

Monster Trucks and Pretty Birds

What is it about being in a car that makes us feel invincible in the idea that we can say or do whatever we want to anyone? People do things in traffic that they would never do standing in a line at the grocery store. In the last 24 hours two random people at two random stop signs/stop lights have illegally driven around my vehicle to cut me off. It’s not as though they we’re getting over and so happen to get in front of me. These people were actually behind me, there was no other lane.

When the first person did it yesterday, it appeared to be a mistake. We were sitting at a stop on a side street that leads to a major road and it seemed that they thought I was turning, when in fact I was going straight. Once they realized what I was doing, they just sort of sat in the lane next to me. That lane is designated for people coming from the opposite direction though. After about 20 seconds of idling there, they just gunned it right by me and slid in between a couple of cars in front of me.

“Asshole.” I muttered as I shook my head.

Who does that really? Do we as people just completely lose our respect for our fellow man when we enter a 2,000 pound hunk of metal?

Sitting at a traffic light on my way to work with a zombie-like posture, I sat staring at the pretty red color on the big black box. No sooner as the light turned green, a massive, crimson monster of a truck came thrashing out of the turn lane and claimed the intersection as his own personal autobahn.

“Fucker! What an asshole! Who does that?”

Not only was Jeff Gordon breaking the law, but he honestly could’ve hurt someone who might have been lingering in the intersection, making their turn as the light goes from yellow to red. Shaking my head in disgust I proceeded down the road.

As Karma would have it, passing his truck was inevitable. My “strategic vehicular placement skills” also came into play, due to knowing the traffic patterns of certain lanes on the congested stretch of hellish terrain, they call a road. It’s essential to have these skills if you want to travel down this avenue in a timely manner.

Staring at yet another stop light, I noticed a commotion in my rearview mirror as we were signaled to go. “This is odd.” I thought to myself. Jeff Gordon in the monster truck was slowing down traffic? Only a few minutes earlier he seemed to be a in a pretty big hurry, a little out of character if you ask me. As I leaned back in my seat, the car in the other lane came into view. The driver was leaning out his window with some dual bird action, directing both of them in the general direction of Jeff Gordon a.k.a. Big, Red Monster!

7 seconds isn’t a very long time, but when you’re leaning out a window shouting disparaging remarks and holding up your middle finger, 7 seconds is an eternity. The man flying his flesh toned obscenities turned the corner as we all drove on.

A quiet hush came over the land, but it was abruptly snuffed out by an echoing cheer that could be heard across the great state of Georgia, for someone finally stepping up to the Big, Red Monster!

We all have silly stories about assholes in traffic. Shit, sometimes we are those assholes. (Shit and Asshole in the same sentence, probably a bad idea) After encountering guys like that though, it makes me want to be a more considerate driver and maybe even second guess my reaction to his reckless action.

Cursing at a random stranger because they made a bad decision in traffic seems to be a little hasty and harsh, but maybe not. His could be a life altering decision. I’m sure at that point it would probably escalate to being more than just an exchange of words.

I’ve said it before, our decisions and opinions in life are all based on perception.

Hopefully, it’s all just perspective. Maybe Big, Red Monster was taking Little, Pink Monster to the hospital to deliver little, blue tonka truck. Maybe he needed to run that light, then again, I’ll never know.

We can never be quite sure of what thought process is motivating the actions of others.

“What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing; it also depends on what sort of person you are.”

C.S. Lewis

Paperback

Someone once said that “People are books” or like books. We all have a copious amount of stories concerning struggle, adventure, love, grief and honestly any other topic that you might find in a library. Sometimes when I look back on my life, the stories I recall don’t really seem like my life. They’re more like something someone told me about, a story my Dad spun one night about his childhood, perhaps. It’s not though. It’s my life, my past.

When you’re 80 years old and sitting around with grandchildren I wonder if it gets worse. Thinking back to an event that occurred 10 years ago seems pretty surreal to me, imagine going back 60 years. No wonder some go crazy when they reach an elderly state. It might not be that they have a disease. They just can’t believe they’ve been alive so fucking long.

Surreality might also occur because we change. The memory doesn’t seem like yourself because it’s not who you are anymore. Experiencing new ideas, interesting people and beautiful new landscapes while ferociously trying to forget about your old hometown, that you longed most of your childhood to run away from, would seem like a very capable means of not being able to connect with past experiences.

My childhood memories are odd, because even though I know that they are real, I am no longer that toe-headed bastard that annoyed the hell out of everyone with my insistent jabber-jaw. Then again, on second thought, maybe they’re more real than I think.

As the years disappear into the distance, a part of me does too, but as many of us have tried our hardest to run from a good portion of our past, I think the wise decision would be to welcome all of the memories, failures and heartache as well, with open arms.

Unfortunately, even though I try not to dwell on the negative, the chapters of my life containing the failures and heartaches seem to be the pages that I read over and over again. Maybe I’m drawn to them for learning purposes of what not to do or how to be stronger and wiser, but I do know that those hard to read chapters are the ones that formed and forged me. They’re the reason why I am who I am.

The stories in every book have their ups and downs, but I do know one thing though, every chapter seems to get more and more exciting. Thumbing through the pages of my life, peering down at the good and the bad, I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be ready to close my book and go to sleep for the night.

Punchline

Every Saturday or Sunday morning I try to walk over to the local coffee shop. You could honestly hit the place with a rock from my apartment. It literally takes about 30 seconds to turn the corner and be in their doorway. That’s one of the reasons I love living in the city. On top of how close it is, it’s also not a Starbucks or any other corporately owned business. They currently have two locations and I have no idea where the other one is.

A lot of small towns have this atmosphere as well. I’ve always been in love with historic downtown districts. The roads have names like Main Street and Lee Street. Most of the shops are on the main drag and they have a couple of small boutiques or restaurants tucked away on the side streets. My subconscious basically screams at me that I wasn’t cut out for the suburbs.

The suburbs were my home for years and years. Currently, my job calls for me to drive to a predominate Atlanta suburb 5 days a week. Every morning as I make the trek I tend to wish that the office was closer, at least inside the perimeter, if you know the geography of Atlanta at all. The drive isn’t bad though and I think it makes me appreciate the city life even more having to look at where I use to live on a daily basis.

Here in Atlanta, due to the earlier mentioned perimeter of I-285 that circles the city, you have two types of people. There are people who live OTP and people who live ITP.

OTP = Outside the Perimeter

ITP = Inside the Perimeter

People who live ITP seem to be very proud of the fact that they live in the city limits. I tend to find myself being a little bit smug about not having to eat at T.G.I. Friday’s if I want to take my girlfriend out to a nice restaurant. Considering there isn’t a lot of unique restaurants in the “Burbs”. It’s a stupid reason to be cocky though. It’s not like the people who live OTP can’t just drive down here, but I guess we’re all a little more like rappers then we think.

Rappers are always talking about their neighborhood (Hood, if you will). They have to “rep” it. Back in the day I think it was pretty cool, you know, guys saying stuff like “Straight outta Compton…” or writing songs called “California Love” or New York State of Mind”. As Atlanta has found its way onto the map in the hip-hop scene, you’re hearing more about the ATL and my current hometown, Decatur. We have the likes of Outkast, Ludacris and Lil’ Jon, to name a few, to thank for this. Thanks guys, for “repping” (that means represent, if you’re not affiliated with hip-hop slang) my hood.

As I was saying earlier, everyone has taken to “repping” these days, so much as to belittling a co-worker who lives ten miles outside of the city. It’s all pretty silly if you ask me, but I guess it really boils down to the human condition. We all want to be accepted. Everyone wants to be cool. Why do so many people flock to NYC and L.A.? It seems cool. Cool people live there with cool jobs. Most movie stars and a lot of bands live in New York and California. It must be the American promise land.

If people can tack that they’re from a place where cool and sexy rich people are from, on to their person, maybe people will think that they are cool, sexy and rich too! It sounds so elementary, but I know it’s true. I think we all do, because we’ve all done something similar.

I’ve been lucky not to fall into the LA and NY trap though because I’ve seen enough people do it already. None of my close friends made it in NY, they got out alive, but they were always broken when they got home. NYC eats people’s souls. Let me rephrase that, NYC chews on people’s souls and then spits it out when they go home.

A few of my buddies did OK in LA (that sounds like a band name). They didn’t find much opportunity there though. Some still live there, but most moved away. They had a good time and I think it was overall a good experience for them, but it wasn’t a place where they wanted to put roots down.

We as people wear so many different masks. Trying to cover up who we really are has become so second nature. Throwing up fronts to make ourselves look better to other people and ultimately make ourselves feel better about ourselves, even though it’s a lie.

Have you ever met someone who was completely comfortable with who they were and never made any excuses for something they did that other people saw as being strange? I fucking love those people. They tend to be the most accepting of others as well. They welcome change and new ideas. You never feel awkward telling them anything about yourself either. You can actually tell them what your favorite album of all-time really is, without being judged for loving Seal’s greatest hits. They’d probably say that they love Seal too and start in to the chorus of “Kissed by a Rose”.

People gravitate towards those types of individuals. They probably have 50 best friends in every city they visit. Everyone loves them! How can you not like someone who makes you feel OK with your insecurities? You can’t push that away and if you can, it’s only for so long.

When I look around at the world and see people always tearing each other down, it’s pretty painful to watch. It’s painful when I watch myself do it. It seems as though every bit of entertainment we have these days is based off of making fun of someone. Think about your favorite TV show or comedian, think about the jokes, it’s usually at someone else’s expense. Why do we do it? To make ourselves feel better because someone has done it to us before. No wonder we always hide who we really are, we’re afraid that we’re going to be the butt of the next joke.

Tear it down!

One of my favorite things to do is to try and get my head around some idea or thought process that is foreign to me. The only problem though, is that it takes a lot of energy. It’s exhausting because it doesn’t wear on your body, but on the mind. Nevertheless, I like coming out on the other side with a deeper understanding of how it all works. It makes you wiser in the end, regardless of what you discover. At least you asked the hard question that so many fear asking.

What makes the process so exhausting is the deconstruction of the idea. For example, I was talking to some of my girlfriend’s co-workers last night and inevitably as much as I honestly avoid the subject in real life, we started talking about religion. As we all know, I automatically kick into my devil’s advocate role and start asking the hard questions that most Christians are afraid to ask. They like their happy, fluffy feel good religion and they don’t want it to be shaken up. I’m the complete opposite though, if I believe something that has holes in it, let’s fucking tear it apart!

Why would I want to believe in something that is a lie? It may make me feel good now, but in the end it’s just going to blow up in my face and cause more damage in the long run. Something that I find to be immensely gratifying is ripping apart an idea or belief and asking those hard questions, but coming out at the end of it all still believing that it is true. After that gut-wrenching process, you now know why you believe it and you can hold fast to it and not have to question its solidity anymore. It becomes apart of your core!

I love discovering truth for myself. I love knowing what is in my heart may not be right for everyone, but it’s fucking spot on for me! It brings peace of mind and security. It helps me sleep better at night.

The American Dream!

When I was a kid one of my favorite Christmas time movies was Hook. Yeah, it’s about Peter Pan, but it’s set around the holiday season. 15 years later and it’s still a family favorite. I actually bought it on DVD last year just to rekindle a little bit of my childhood. Like most movies you love when you’re a kid, they’re usually not nearly as good when you grow up.

It was fun to sit and quote the lines that I remember repeating to my friends when we goofed around. A few of my friends and I have quoted movies in a parody style since we were kids. I honestly could call my best friend right now and say “Welcome back to Never Land Pan the Man!” and abruptly hang up. He would call me back laughing his ass off. We’re easily amused.

For the most part, I enjoyed watching Hook again. The ending was a little cheesier than I recall, but it was a movie geared towards children. Peter finally cutting off Hook’s head after slicing each of his limbs off one by one would’ve been fucking awesome, but getting mysteriously being eaten by a dead crocodile works too. I imagine they weren’t going for an R rating on that one.

Something that stuck out to me in Hook though, was a quote that the Captain himself says. “Why lie? The truth is much more fun.” (I couldn’t find the exact quote online, but it’s something to that effect.) I’ve been known to quote this line from time to time. I find it to be quite true though. If you really think about it, in a sense, a lot people somewhat live a lie. I include myself in this. I'll just name one for now:

The American Dream!

So what is the American Dream anyway? Going to college? Getting a degree that you probably won’t use? Or how about meeting that special someone and getting married and having 2.5 children? Now don’t forget about buying that two-story, bordered with a white picket fence and two brand new cars sitting in the driveway.

I know it’s a part of being an adult, but I see the so-called American Dream as more of a nightmare. House payments, car payments, rushing into marriage, making babies when you haven’t fulfilled everything you want to do, climbing that corporate ladder to realize that there’s not much going on at the top and my personal favorite, golf.

All of those things make me sick. Some of these things are fulfilling in the right time frame. I’m not completely against marriage or children, but timing is everything. At the ripe old age of 25 I’ve already seen enough of my friends get divorced and seen their babies have to deal with being a part of a broken home. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone and I don’t feel like being another statistic.

I love it when I see people create their own American Dream. It’s a beautiful thing. They are the ones who are in their 40’s and not married, but they’ve traveled more than anyone else you know. They are the Jack and Jill’s of all trades. They have the best stories and either can drink you under the table or give you the wisest advice that you would never hear anywhere else. In a lot of cases, they can do both. Drunken advice isn’t always bad advice, right?

I’m not bashing college, marriage or children here, because for some, that is the American Dream. I just want to encourage and promote free thought. We are free, aren’t we? We should then use that same freedom to create our own American Dream!