7/24/2008

Some things in life are just so frustrating.

7/6/2008

One of the hardest things in life a sane man can do is to let something go that he wants nothing more than to keep within his grasp.

6/10/2007

Despite my religious beliefs, or rather the lack thereof, I do believe in karma. "You reap what you sow." I don't necessarily believe that it has anything to do with a god or the universe handing out judgments to the wretched, but I have seen too many castle walls built from the bones of the betrayed crash down upon their builders. Whether it ends in revenge or mere coincidence, everyone always seems to get what they deserve in the end. I attended my paternal grandfather's funeral today. He died Saturday after a long bout with colorectal cancer. I have not seen him nor my grandmother in nearly four years, and I have not seen my father since my brother's high school graduation in 2006. Anyone that knows me knows I have an estranged relationship with that side of the family. When my other grandfather died 13 years ago, the family was trying to work out the sale of the house where my mom and all of her eight brothers and sisters were raised. The property was eventually sold to a local oil distribution company that had been progressively expanding from their original site a few lots down. My dad happened to work as a diesel mechanic for this company at the time. He did nothing to comfort my mom during the whole ordeal, much like when her mother died years earlier. At one point, he actually said to her, "I'll go over there with a fucking sledgehammer and help them tear the place down." The property is now part of a parking lot, nine sets of childhood memories flattened and subsequently hidden beneath a layer of concrete. Whiteout on the landscape. Fast forward 12 years. The doctors told my grandmother that her husband, my grandfather, had less than two weeks to live. Their only daughter had planned to go to Alaska for six months. Instead of waiting, she, her husband, and their daughter left shortly after this deadline was placed because "the plane tickets are non-refundable." Aside from my new adulteress of a step-mother, who I had never met or even seen before today, my father has no one to comfort him. I've not heard so much as a failed attempt at apology from him for anything he has done, so I am not making any efforts. After the vault was lowered into the ground and the hole was filled with red clay soil, I shook my dad's hand as a few tears rolled down his face but really had nothing to say to him. He finally knows what it feels to lose someone, except this time, he has virtually no one to lean on. If anything will change that thick-skulled brute, it will be this. If not, there is no hope for the man. As I was leaving the cemetery, I had a sudden realization that the CD currently playing in my truck was Metallica's classic opus "...And Justice For All." How wonderfully apt. Maybe everything works out in the end, after all.

6/8/2008

I started to lose my religion near the end of my time in high school. It had been headed downhill earlier than that, but this was the time it actually began to feel different, like everything I had learned was decaying. I used to attend a small town Baptist church with my grandmother, and I often went to Sunday School. There are old pictures of me as a small boy standing in front of my grandparents' house, dressed in tiny black slacks with a white dress shirt and necktie. I was never the stereotypical "Jesus Freak," but I really did enjoy going to church. The teachings were the water, and I was the sponge. I have always been an inquisitive person, but for some reason or other, I never really thought to question my family's belief system until my mid-teenage years. Once I did, it was a bit like an avalanche in my head. The more I picked away at it, the more questions I had. At one point, I became interested in alternate religions. It wasn't so much that I wanted a replacement. That wasn't the case at all. What I was really looking for was an outside perspective for my own comparison. I was a bit surprised to realize the underlying similarities between most of the world's major religions. To this day, I still don't have things completely sorted out in my head, but I did come to terms with it. These days, I generally identify myself as an agnostic, although I'm not sure if that is entirely accurate. Labels tend to cheapen things, and this typically applies to all aspects of life. I do still believe there is a God. While I no longer subscribe to any particular belief system, I have no problem with those who do. In actuality, I view religion as somewhat of a necessity. Religion should be personalized, not mass-produced and issued to everyone. Every friendship between two people is different, and a spiritual relationship with a higher power of one's own choosing should be no different. People need something to believe in, something to cling to during those trying times. I admit it is a comforting thought. I don't think the majority of the population is ready to know for a fact that there is no God, no afterlife, no reason for being, and most of all, no repercussions. The world is harsh, and it needs a father figure. A big one. It takes a lot of self-determination to be able to cope without it. Is it that I am stronger than most, or am I just looking through a different lens? I cannot answer that. I recently prayed and talked to God for the first time in... Who even knows how long? Ultimately, it was of absolutely no avail, which didn't exactly help to steer me back toward a life beneath the shadow of a holy cross. As far as I know, I am the only person in my entire family who has openly stepped outside the comfortable confines of spirituality. I really see no end in sight for the path I walk. I don't know where I am, nor do I know where I am headed, but I've done it on my own. And I think that counts for something.

6/7/2008

Today...well, technically, it was yesterday...I began to feel a long-suppressed desire creeping back into the light once more, the desire to leave behind everyone and everything I love or hate and run away to start anew somewhere in Texas. I don't know what it is about the Lone Star State that has been beckoning me for so long, aside from the minimal winters. Nothing ever seems to work out in the tattered tapestry that is my life. Most of the people I have considered friends no longer reside in the area, and I am slowly coming to realize I dislike my career choice. I am not exactly sure what served as the catalyst for all of this, but I do know that it dates back to a time before my family fell apart. Leaving the area is something I started thinking about when I was 19 or so, and it has popped up intermittently ever since. Welcome back...I guess.

One of my favorite bands, Porcupine Tree, recorded a song called “Prodigal” for their 2002 release entitled In Absentia. I’ve never been able to relate to any single song as much as I do this one. And even though I don’t listen to that album as much as I once did, this song’s message still feels just as familiar as I remember it that first time.

“Prodigal” - by Porcupine Tree

I don't know whose side I'm on
I don't think that I belong round here
If I left the stage, would that be wrong?

I tried to find myself a better way
I got religion, but I went astray
They took my money, and I lost my faith

Rain keeps crawling down the glass
The good times never seem to last
Close your eyes and let the thought pass

I tried the capsule, and I tried the smoke
I tried to aid escape like normal folk
But I never seemed to get the joke

These are my old clothes
This is a new low
This is my blood flow
This is my headstone

I spend my days with all my friends
They're the ones on who my life depends
I'm gonna miss them when the series ends

Rain keeps crawling down the glass
(Pull yourself together)
The good times never seem to last
(You know it's not so bad)
Close your eyes and let the thought pass
(Close your eyes and let it pass)

6/6/2008 (Part III)

In my late teenage years, I set out on a quest of personal evolution in an effort to test and hopefully find my limits as a human being, to exert myself far beyond the norm. I want to push myself to the very fringe of my existence, and while standing there at the bitter end with a slightly fatigued but still determined gleam in the eye, I want to take my proverbial limit into my hands and crush it within my grasp. I want to see its grainy remains fall to the ground in cinematic slow motion, and when the last speck of dust has completed its crestfallen descent from between my war-battered hands, I want to cross that ever-elusive boundary line and step into the unknown, all without reaching self-destruction. And that is what makes this journey so difficult. Any fool can dive head first into oblivion, but few reemerge to tell the tale gained by stepping beyond the typical human experience. This is my main goal in life, and it plays a large part in my attraction to adventure sports. I want to reengineer my body and psyche from the core outward. The exhilaration brought on by true adventure helps me to examine my position within the mortal coil more closely and maintain my composure with military precision. When danger lurks around every corner, correct decisions are of utmost importance, and the outcome is at all times deadly serious. It is like a game of chess, but I am playing with my life instead of mass-produced wooden pawns. I am well aware of the imperfections I carry with me daily like my own keenly veiled stigmata, more aware of my shortcomings than anyone else in this cruel, cruel world. But these imperfections serve in part as the inspiration for my journey to the summit of the mountain of life. To quote the rocker Henry Rollins, "I will make weapons of my imperfections." With this in my tool bag, I think I just might be unstoppable. With a bit of ingenuity, no obstacle is insurmountable. My entire life, I have viewed the world in a different light than the ordinary person. I don't believe this to be delusion but instead, a gift, almost as if I won some sort of deranged genetic lottery. Under intense scrutiny, sometimes necessity can be found nestled inside a wrapping of tragedy, and I think there is real beauty in that, chaotic as it may be. There are two lines of dialogue from Fight Club that say, "It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything," and "Only after disaster can we be resurrected." No other film has been so life-affirming for me. Once a deep enough hole is dug, the only way to look is up, and this is when the light above appears brightest.

6/6/2008 (Part II)

What is it exactly that motivates us to continue on as people? As humans, we no longer get by on the need for procreation alone. Some of us find ourselves motivated by malice and greed, and others are motivated by the totally selfless desire to help others. Personally speaking, much of my own motivation comes from the desire to completely pull myself from the wide-cast shadow of my father. I know it isn't as bad in reality because you are always your own worst critic. So far, I think I have done a fantastic job, but it has been a bit like climbing a scree slope. As I climb to the top of my canyon's rim, I slide one step back down for every two I take. I am not a quitter. I have the desire to succeed where so many have failed. As large as my family is, I am only the second one to attend college. The fact that I am where I am is testament enough to my own will power. I was recently reading through a notebook, and I found a piece that I had written a few years ago during a hard time in my life.

"The Sculptor"

I sat and watched
As he mounted his throne
With hammer in hand
And chisel to stone
A bit crude at first
The boy etched my shape
He was thrown in too early
And cursed by fate
Using only these tools
He went to work
Aiming to progress
And fueled by hurt
Accelerated sculpting
It's a steep learning curve
It's amazing, how fast
The sharp lines became blurred
"Triumph is paramount"
His mantra assumed
He set his pace
And he paid his dues
Now, years have gone by
And the boy is no more
Left in his place
Is this hardened form
Weathered by wisdom
And crafted by time
He embraced this stone totem
And his life became mine
Now tougher and stronger
And built to last
Shielded from all
I turned from my past
I never looked back
To set an anchor in time
I must move forward
And take what is mine
And thus begins the story
Of a misfortunate joe
Who proudly crossed the line
And became the carver's stone

6/6/2008 (Part I)

Sometimes I sit and reflect in the waning light of the day. It's a good time of day for us pseudo-philosophers. As I sit here tonight, alone, I think about how so many of the little facets of life are cyclical. Ups and downs. Ins and outs. Yin and yang. One season fades into the next without always leaving a definite line of juxtaposition. Some sort of duality exists in nearly everything we know. There are two sides to every coin...and story. Perhaps the Mayans were right. Maybe time isn't linear like we were led to believe from early childhood. Those textbooks were filled with their fair share of trite bullshit anyway. Columbus didn't discover America, and Abe wasn't honest. If one really thinks about it, the Biblical Eternity would make more sense as a single persisting moment rather than a time line extending infinitely in either direction. Perhaps time is just a grand illusion, a prison that we've created for ourselves in an effort to cope with something the human mind just cannot handle. After all, we are the only species on the planet that concerns itself with keeping track of it. Most everyone has heard the quote, "We stand on the shoulders of giants," at one time or another in their lives. Needless to say, without these "giants" of the past, we would not be where we are today, but it could be that in exchange for leaving behind the comfortable stasis still carried on by a select few tribal groups neatly tucked away beneath a handful of dense forest canopies in pockets around the world, we are instead building ourselves up on tower of isolation and driving ourselves farther and farther apart. Buddhism teaches that the key to enlightenment is living in the present. Some may think that is silly, but I have been doing that for as long as I can remember. It happened naturally and had absolutely nothing to do with the need of aligning myself with a particular philosophy or religion. One day when I was 20 years old, I went a little early to a college English course I was taking because I had nothing else to do that day. I went in and sat down. After a few minutes of perusing a magazine I had brought with me, my English professor spoke up and said, "Can I ask you a question, Brandon?" I quickly complied, and he asked, "Are you content with life? The reason I ask is this: I have never met anyone so engaged in the present moment." After a moment of thought, I couldn't give him a straight answer. I had never really thought about it before that day because I never saw the need. Even to this day, I don't have a definite answer to that question. I generally lean to the negative side of that question, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. After all, a content man has never left a lasting mark on the world. I just have to figure out what it is that I need to use to make my mark. As time continues to pass, I think more and more that my weapon (or tool) of choice is the written word.

6/4/2008

To err is to be human. We all make mistakes, and often times, these very mistakes end up helping to define us as people. Generally speaking, they are best used as learning devices. You learn the lesson and move on. But to dwell upon these mistakes is to set an anchor in time and, in turn, slow or even stop progression. I have a CD somewhere called The String Tribute to Tool. It is a collection of songs by the band Tool covered by a classical string ensemble. On the back of the CD case, it says something about how the message of much of the band's music is that the fastest path to personal advancement is through pain. That thought has been dancing around in the back of my head for years, and to this day, I haven't read many truer statements. Pain is among the greatest of teachers. It's why we don't touch a hot stovetop more than once. Muscle mass is never gained without a proportional amount of physical pain. On a related note, nearly all the great artwork I see was fueled by some kind of pain, whether it was rejection, abuse, distress, depression, or anything else from within the spectrum of negative human emotion. But art is alchemy of the soul. It's all about taking that negativity and transforming it into something unique and beautiful. I've long known this to be true. With the recent turn of events, my long-standing writer's block has been ground into a fine powder. Ideally, we'd all like for everything to be perfect at all times, but without life's little trials and tribulations, we would have no vantage point from which to gauge the happier enjoyable times. If perfection was truly attainable, there would be no contrast, and everything would be taken for granted. Conflict is inevitable. It is merely human nature, but we should all strive to limit it. However, when the willingness to work through it is present on all sides, the very wedge that drives us apart can in the end bring us closer together.