Roaring Whispers

Pour

2005-10-25T18:50:00.000-02:00

I started to leak.

Again, in an instant, I was at that lonely place again. I was surrounded by people, and yet still all by myself. I had gone back for a while, back to the simple world of seeing without judgment, with a collection of understanding. Now I am all by myself, trapped in a world surrounded by people who are dealing with the same things I am. I realized a bit ago that these people were all trying to do the best they could with what they had. Not looking too bad, honestly.

I love writing so much that I am danger of letting other important things slip away from me. I try to be honest with myself every moment of the day, and I can't do it without thinking of the way to make the best money off of it. Everything I do feels so scripted, so dramatic....

In six sentences, I released a little of the pressure, shattering the truth to pieces with a tiny punctuation mark. I was eight years old again, a scrawny, timid kid with an aptitude for spelling and mathematics. I twitched slightly as I though back to that time, when the encyclopedia was my best friend, even better than my bestest friend (we'll just call him Morris). I had other best friends too, male and female. They were my network, my true support system. I learned so much about the world because of them. Unfortunately, the world took a different turn once my best friends were not there anymore. Except for the encyclopedia.... And the dictionary.... And the thesaurus. And some of the software.... And my notes....

As I start to rebuild the collection of books, technology, and accreditations required for me to feel fulfilled, I am again alone. This time I am also ashamed. I wish that one day, any day, I could just write things without editing or say things without censoring. Hell, I wish I could think things without filtering. Always an audience. I hate the way I feel when I don't perform according to the script. Or the outline.... Note cards would be nice.... Ooooooh, I could use a powerpoint-- background music, the whole works-- and I could put it on a DVD-CD-mp3-CDC-FEMA-Wilma-Bilingual-- Overqualified-- bipartisan-- confused idiot ranting stupid super duper disk.... Oh wow! I could bring in my laptop and hook it up to a video camera and RECORD MYSELF GIVING MY SPEECH!

Oh, shit! I gotta go write my speech!

Detached

2005-09-15T00:34:00.000-02:00

As I listened to her soothing voice through the small speaker of my cell phone, I realized that there was a minute chance that she could actually comprehend what I was trying to express. It was a moment of inspiration- and one of mourning- which bred my desire to write again.

I had been ranting for more than an hour about the my family. I talked about the big argument between my dad and my brother, the living situation with my mom, the division of my extended family, and even the recent divorces and marriages of old buddies. I was wounded. As I sat in the recliner, various emotions bled from my lips while I struggled to explain why I always felt so alone. Even in that instant, I was surrounded by people and still alone. I had tried so hard to establish a life where I could be alone, with no parents or roommates or girlfriends to fill my life with unexperienced experiences. After twelve years of trying to be alone, I've found it a more difficult job than I had originally imagined. I run from my family, and I end up with more friends; I run from my friends, and end up with more voices in my head.

At first, all I wanted was to get away from the 4.5 people that I grew up with. I ended up with a tight (almost smothering at times) circle of friends, an extended family separated by thousands of miles (which significantly increases my phone bill), and a single bedroom five miles from Disney hell with 3.35 people and 3 semi- permanent houseguests (with one on the way). I appreciate my family, my friends, the life I've managed to create...

BUT I JUST NEED A MOMENT TO BE ALONE.

I can handle the arguing, the stories about work, the domestic disputes, the allegations, the rumors, the facts...

BUT I JUST NEED A MOMENT TO BE ALONE.

I love the free food, the sort- term loans, the entertainment...

BUT I JUST NEED A MOMENT TO BE ALONE.

I really don't mind the voices...

BUT EVEN THE VOICES DON'T UNDERSTAND ME.
I JUST NEED A MOMENT TO BE ALONE.

If they would stop giving me all this input, I might actually have a chance to be alone. I don't like being detached, analytical, and unemotional. I know I can't be alone unless I follow my heart.

I just worry that I won't ever come back to them all once I'm detached.

A Moment of Silence

2005-09-11T20:02:00.000-02:00

As the gulf coast continues to hurt, to inspire, and to rebuild, let us not forget...

I think most of us have made it past the point where we can no longer watch the images of a burning World Trade Center, and yet I believe most of us can still remember where we were when the world finally got word that tradgedy had fallen upon our fellow citizens. As a native New Yorker, I will never forget the swarm of emotions that I felt when I saw the newcast for the first time.

Let's not forget that there are people who have suffered at the hands of other people. Natural disasters suck because there's no one to blame. Despite everything that I feel about the current administration, it's comforting to know that someone is to blame and people are being killed under the pretense of revenge.

UPGRADE v.09.10.05

2005-09-10T18:47:00.000-02:00

Finally I get a whole day off from work, and what am I going to do with it. Spend the exciting part with my damn girlfriend and her family while my roommates indulge in every sin that can fit into a three- bedroom apartment. As much as I enjoy listening to stories about freshly picked peas and the virtues of Whitesnake, I just wish I could bring myself to disappoint her to her face instead of just behind her back. I imagine that if she really knew about the things that happened here, or even the things that could potentially happen here, she'd be more than willing to tell me to take a hike and I could go back to looking for the perfect woman in peace.

Unfortunately, the woman I have is both too close to what I want and too far from what I want. After so many years of being the bad guy- breaking hearts and burning bridges- it just feels really wrong to be in love with someone because of the person they are inside. If only I had the other things that I desired in life, then maybe it wouldn't matter what jeans size she wore or how often she went to church. As soon as I convince myself that I can really be the man she deserves, I remember that I have never come close to being that man without losing everything I had.

It would all be perfect with a few minor upgrades:

1)Slightly thinner
2)Slightly more experienced
3)Slightly less practical
4)Slightly more frugal
5)Slightly less accepting
6)Significantly more understanding*

*I have not fully tested all the details of the final requirement. I can't look her in the eye and talk about the raging lust for OTHER WOMEN. I can't make her feel less attached to her family or less "country". I need her to hear the mantra which details everything I can really appreciate in a woman as I try to make MY dreams come true:

FUCK ME, FEED ME, LEAVE ME ALONE.

It's funny to think that I have an overwhelming number of platonic female friends and an ex- wife who understand what I mean, and are now making the world more fulfilling for men who don't know how lucky they are. It's also funny that I got exactly the woman I prayed for and I go to sleep every day trying to convince myself that she is better for me than anyone I can look backwards at or forward to.

It doesn't help that I live in an area overpopulated by size 2 hot- blooded Hispanic women, in an apartment where 18 - 25 year old women parade new tattoos, piercings, haircuts, and manicures on a daily basis. I don't know if I'm lucky in love or unlucky in promiscuity. The latter has always been my specialty.

I suppose it would be harder to stay in my current relationship if I had a better car, or a better job.

Another stupid voice.

2005-09-09T22:44:00.000-02:00

I know I keep harping on the "voices" thing, but it's a pretty accurate description of what I experience through every second of the day. When I really have the balls to get off my butt and try, I have done some pretty nice work. I hesitate to expose all of the things I write on a daily basis, mostly because I can't keep track of them. Truthfully, I have a hard time conducting conversations with anyone, including myself, unless there is some medium of writing involved. I have tried to understand the voices which I claim to hear. Things are not distinct, but then again, I guess it's okay. This is not a science project.

It upsets me to think that I still haven't gotten it.

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Prymal

2005-09-06T18:51:00.000-02:00

He addresses the other New Order officers as he loads weapons into the inconspicuous folds of his armor. He snaps shut the black metallic holster on his right hip:

I am going on a hunt. I do not request that any of you accompany me, but I will not dare discount the true brotherhood of any man who undertakes to join me. At dusk, I intend to descend on foot into the Shrine of Truth and destroy its occupants. I intend to destroy the interior, the foundation, and the relics of the shrine. I will take for trophies the stone heads of the Great Hall, and publicly declare myself a diety in comparison to their greatest hero. Prophet will have no choice but to reveal himself in the light of day. Who will stand with me?

I could only withdraw to the cabins and weep for the knowledge which clogged my mind. It had become more than a conflict; a world war was coming, and only one other man knew of the impending threat. I thought back to my father's last words:

There are things that human knowledge cannot comprehend. A martyr's destiny is beyond the realm of understanding.

UPGRADE v.09.04.05

2005-09-04T09:52:00.000-02:00

Every six months or so I feel the need to make some sweeping changes in my life. I sit down, I make a list of what I want, and I think of ways to get them. I'm in a really good place right now, so naturally I'm uncomfortable as hell. I just want more. I just want better. I don't need to have the best, but I wouldn't mind. I don't need to be the best, but I can't help but dream. I have the basics, and because of that, nothing that I've acquired in the last six months is good enough anymore. I've been good for a few weeks - I deserve some upgrades.

I hate driving a Kia. When I bought it a six months ago, I was convinced it would be enough to get me by. My previous vehicle had fallen on rough times, forfeited to a tow yard after losing a wheel (that's right, the whole fucking rim and tire assembly, including the studs) at 70 miles per hour. That was fun. After six months of carpooling and struggling to save money, I was ready to get something going again. I wanted something cheap and relatively fuel- efficient; all I had to worry about was getting to school and work and back to home. It's gotten me through a semester of school without a problem, and we are now commuting to our second job together. We've changed residences together twice already, and made several long trips to urban hospitals, rural residences, and oceanside retreats. The car has definitely done everything that I needed it to do.

The problem is, my Kia doesn't do everything I WANT it to do. I want it to pass stragglers in traffic effortlessly, to grip the road in rainy conditions, to make pretty girls curious about who is inside. It is possible, but not in a Kia. I wonder everyday why I have to drive a crap commuter car while idiots get to drive really nice, really powerful, really expensive cars. When I say idiots, I mean "driving idiots":

1. The people that drive in the passing lane on the highway, completely unaware that both lanes of traffic on the right are moving faster than them. If you get passed by a Kia and an eighteen- wheeler, get out of the way.

2. The people that hit their brakes whenever they glance in the rear- view mirror. Slamming on YOUR brakes does not make the car behind you go slower; it's actually much more likely that he/she will be willing to rear- end you for the satisfaction of watching you get loose and swerve into the ditch/divider/median/k-rail (or oncoming traffic, though that's not really fair).

3. The people that think they need to impress me by passing me and then cruising in front of me. I drive a Kia. I'm not even sure they rate Kias in terms of performance. The car has enough horsepower to make it go forward, that's all. Unless you drive a Kia, you're an idiot for thinking that my car is made for competition.

So, these people get to drive the sports cars and SUVs that I wish I was driving, and they are not even required to drive them competently. How is that fair? I think that with an upgrade to my vehicle, I would be better equipped to deal with my road rage, my schedule, and the charming daily afternoon thunderstorms of Central Florida summers. Plus I might feel a little better about the romance affliction that I have. If only I could afford the upgrade...

175 Miles Later

2005-09-03T14:15:00.000-02:00

I must be losing my mind.

I drove 175 miles south last night, in the rain, focused on a very specific agenda:

1. Sex (no problem there after a week)
2. Free food (she bought dinner AND cooked breakfast - I love it!)
3. A quiet place to do homework...

Okay, so I'm having trouble with my homework (I have been reading other blogs since my girlfriend set foot out of the apartment). I tried to focus on schoolwork, which I love and which, in fact pays most of my bills. For some reason, I can't help thinking about my blog, reading other blogs, posting to my blog, blah blah blog, blah blog this, blah blog that, you get the point... I never realized that the world was full of so many... perspectives. One of them made it really hard to go back to thinking inside the box....

It's tough knowing that the world is full of people that do the same things that I do, but with a hundred times more skill, passion, or support that I can seem to round up. I always think that I am pushing as hard as I can, and I realize that I'm not pushing hard enough.

I hate running from the regrets and the "could'a, should'a, would'a" cycle that has plagued me since I was a kid. Shit, I can't even freewrite. I'm so obsessed with trying to improve that I can't even be myself anymore.

The voices in my head speak with perfect diction all the time, and plague me when I just let shit go. I really wish I could just let go and find a place to be myself. Even my blog is infected by it. My girlfriend has no idea I'm writing it, so even the place where I can be most honest requires me to hold back from somewhere else. I suppose I should do something about that.

I have to get out of here, out of this box, out of these chains, and someplace where I only need one voice to tell me what the fuck is going on. This sucks. Ooooh, I just made a decision.

Beyond Me

2005-09-03T00:01:00.000-02:00

Beyond Me

by I. Stephen

Look into my eyes and you can see a man who lives in misery.

Feel my heart and you will find a stone imprisoned by my mind.

Touch my hand and you will know how far imagination can go.

See my soul and comprehend that a lonely man’s passion has no end.

What you see inside my eyes is my life’s truth covered in lies.
What you find within my heart is a lonely path without a start.
What survives in my hand’s touch is a life where sex is never enough.

Please understand: beyond my soul is too much torment to take control
If you dare to see what lies within, together we may both survive our sin.
You think my soft words are fun and games- the loss is yours, and so is the blame.

Signs

2005-09-02T02:59:00.000-02:00

I am new to the blog process. I started my blog because I needed a way to figure out how to express what I was feeling. I was also hoping it could get me discovered someday. I just read a random blog (for reference) and got slapped in the face with the realization that the world isn't ACTUALLY about me. I cringe when I think there might be a twenty- something in New Orleans having the same realization.

I may have to return to religion soon. The signs I pray for are right in front of me, right when they should be. I don't always follow them:

1. After 14 years of being a bona fide sinner and "antitheist", I broke down in tears and prayed for God to make my life better. All I wanted was a chance to be the man I always thought I could be. I wanted a more fulfilling job, a loyal (and somewhat compliant) girlfriend, and a place where I could have the peace and quiet to listen to my heart and follow my dreams. I promised to work hard, be loyal, and make the most of everything I got.

2. I found a book about religious iconography ISBN 0-8006-0488-1 in my school library's "discarded" pile. I brought it home and found a picture of a Chinese monk which I later had tattooed on my back. I love it, especially since it hurt like hell. It was a few days later that I first noticed the woman that I had prayed for. She would consequently cause me to leave the place where I worked.

3. I had a crush on a girl who later rejected me. I am certain it was because she was a Mormon. I am not a Mormon. I had a similar experience with a Seventh Day Adventist. I am certain it was because she was married. I am not married.

3a. I thought about sex all the time: at work, at home, at the library.
3b. I bought a crappy car with my income tax refund.
3c. I was living from paycheck to paycheck. I worked part time. I was depressed.
3d. I met six girls in four weeks who went to church every week.

4. I went out on the town with a few girls. I ended up with the one who I had least desired. It was Easter. It was the best Easter I can remember having. The prior Easter was the worst I can remember having.

5. My girlfriend crashed her car on the way to pick me up- after she had attended church. We were going shopping for clothes for me to wear at the new job I had to take because of her. I was just figuring out how to enjoy the crap job I already had. I was mad at her for forcing me into the situation. She never made it to my house, and wasn't answering her cell phone. I cried when her Dad called me from the hospital. I prayed she would be okay, probably the most sincere prayer of my life. She is okay. I have not kept up my end of the bargain. I worry about her.

6. I quit my job and she took care of me. I was good to her and she was good to me. I came into enough money to pay off my credit cards and conduct a proper job search. I finished my finals - I still have a 4.0 GPA. I can talk to her on my cell phone for free. She loves me.

7. She suffered a loss. I was barely there for her. She appreciated me anyway.

8. I have a great job now. I live five minutes away from it, in an apartment I can afford. I'm writing more, reading more, making more money, meeting more people, organizing better...

9. I still have not held up my end of the bargain. I love my girlfriend. She now lives 175 miles away. I worry about her.

10. Sometimes I think that the wrong people get punished. Sometimes I think that God is really punishing me less than I deserve. There's more to all of this, but I'm afraid God will be pissed if I don't quit while I'm ahead.

Thank you, Josh, for reminding me how lucky I am.

P.S. Josh is my ex- girlfriend's ex- boyfriend's name. I hate them both.

Coagulation

2005-09-02T01:33:00.000-02:00

At this instant, I am caught in a world of learning, teaching, listening, talking, reading, writing, sensory overload...

emotional overload.

I spent the last four hours in agonizing concentration over my schedule.

I have two "day planners"; the one which contains my personal appointments is practically empty.

I love my girlfriend, but she lives 175 miles away.

I just started a new full- time job. I just started a full- time college semester.

It cost me $25.00 to fill my car with gasoline. I drive a Kia. A used Kia.

I just want to be a writer. I am surrounded by people who have nothing to complain about. Everyone I care about has a reason to be sad; they don't all know it. I write because life speaks to me. Sometimes the whispers I hear while I sleep don't stop when I wake up. The voices only go away when I write down what I hear. I hope somebody reads what I've written and finally "gets it".