How to Make Me Happy in 12 Easy Steps.

1. Speak genuinely.
2. Can appreciate a classic yet more obscure Zeppelin ballad.
3. Know how I prefer my tea. Hot and overwhelmingly bitter with a touch of honey.
4. Care little for the skewed outsider perception of others.
5. Be able to quote Tolkien.
6. Not mind the stale scent of dusted chalk and dried acrylics.
7. Value intelligence, it’s far from overrated.
8. Pull off a classy all black ensemble without the gothic appeal.
9. Love the outdoors with every ounce of your being.
10. Value poetic literature.
11. Make me laugh. A lot.
12. Don’t be afraid to live a little.

Secrets Unannounced.

Confusion seems to define
who we are.
We seem to have
come so far.
Yet what role does
perspective play?
If you only knew how much of what I think
differs from what I say...

Confessions.

Heavy hues of evening
sinking to the dusty sidewalk.
The dry taste of chalk
drenching the air.
Cooled cobbled concrete
rippled with crushed color.
Loose strands of hair
swaying with absorption.
Fingertips rubbed raw
lightly pressing the ground.
Soft whispers of strangers
observing the artists toil.
Darkened shadows
falling beneath dirtied knees.
Heavy hues of evening
blanketing the dusty sidewalk.



Sometimes I miss who I was. Who I thought I might be. Who I still am is smothered by reality.
My hands often yearn to create but, time or lack thereof, often steals such intentions from my grasp.
Sometimes I miss the immersion. The forgetting. The portraying. The capturing of pure, simplistic beauty.
My mind screams for release from logic, but rationale quiets the protests.
Sometimes I miss the detachment. The reviving. The technique. The releasing of tainted, complex beauty.
But to put it bluntly, I miss art.
Sometimes I want it back.

"Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one."
-Stella Adler

"Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."
-Pablo Picasso

A Note on Final Exams...

My brain is bruising the boundries of my skull.

Not a fan.

Exist Within Absence.

"It's the hurt I hide that fuels the fire inside me.
Will I always feel this way?
So empty, so estranged."
-Ray LaMontagne

Empty is a curious adjective.

Abandoned. Barren. Dead. Desolate. Hollow. Lacking. Void. We've all experienced the stinging soulful penetration that comes with being completely and utterly drained of substance. When you're empty, it is as if each step you take threatens to shatter the thin hollow frame holding what's left of you together. Even the ritualistic act of breathing becomes labored, forced. It's hard to let out even something as simple as air when it seems as if that's all you have left inside of you.

But why is the absence of something always a necessary evil? Why not a necessary good for future completeness? It seems wrong for emptiness to be only associated with the hurt that oftentimes comes with it. Vacant. Bare. Blank. Open. Wanting. Such is what emptiness could imply. The act of emptying is to remove, to purge. How can there be room for better things to come if our beings are cluttered with a pretense of complacency.

"We cannot let another person into our hearts or minds unless we empty ourselves. We can truly listen to him or truly hear her only out of emptiness."

To me, emptiness does not always signify fragility. Vulnerablity, maybe. However, not frailness. There is a certain empowerment that comes with it. Nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.”
-William Shakespeare

Like a freshly gessoed canvas free from the burden of built up dust and grime. The colors always seem brighter if splashed on anew, untainted by past streaks of forgotten hues. Empty is full. That's the point that most people miss. Afterall, life itself is a contradiction.

"There was emptiness more profound than the void between the stars, for which there was no here and there and before and after, and yet out of that void the entire plenum of existence sprang forth."

Approach emptiness with the same eagerness one approaches fulfillment. Emptiness embraces much more than mere self pity. Look beyond the absence into the possibility of what is soon to fill it.

The Humor of Fear.

The adrenaline of fictional horror-
a room clothed in shadow
enclosing a worn welcoming couch.
Faces frozen in wavering emotion, dimly lit by a screen
broadcasting gaps of insecurity.
Familiar characters trapped
in believable circumstances.
Waiting. Looming. Dreading. Still. Over?
Illuminated script of credits rolling down a dark screen

and yet, the soft click of a button
turns off the absurdity and
deeply grounded by the reawakening of reality
you fail to hear the soft creak of a door left unlocked-
for reality is no stranger to irony…

The Kettle Sings Its Tortured Song.

I've been forcibly contemplating loneliness lately
and
have decided solitude definitely has its shortcomings.

I am a people person afterall...weird?...

Contentment.

10 of my favorite things at the moment.

1. Fire Roasted Five Pepper Hummus
2. Ray LaMontagne
3. Physical exhaustion
4. Wild Honeysuckle scented spray
5. Scalding hot showers
6. Chacos
7. "Schweet"
8. Joaquin phoenix
9. Tousled hair
10. Friends

The First Mistake.

To cut so deep that it runs free;
Trickling down in lumps of dense rock,
hues of ebonized expectation.
Biting down upon the eye of sense,
deliberately wavering,
sharp snaps swinging in flashes of greed,
clouds of mud caked, carelessly thrown,
curling strands of thorns left to grow.
Words hot with the consuming flame of belief,
bruising the tough leather exterior,
saying more than should have been said.

It's Missed You.

Misery called, your familiar kin,
Its gleaming claws lightly scratching the fastened door outside-
Wondered where you’ve been.

You used to be numb, withered within,
You lived to feel nothing, surely a part of you had died
Misery called, your familiar kin

It’s not used to your cryptic grin
Are you still just as hollow on the inside?
Wondered where you’ve been.

Deep creases of weariness spackled on your skin
It’s hard to erase where years of sorrow have abide
Misery called, your familiar kin.

It remembers the days you would let disappointment win
Defeated by letdowns, sick from all that you have been denied-
Wondered where you’ve been

It has sensed the change, but when did this all begin?
Now left to smother, suffocate, subside-
Misery called, your familiar kin,
Wondered where you’ve been.

Black Holes and Revelations.

If there's one thing I have learned during my time here in Boone, it's that life is a lot more complicated than I have given it credit for. We've all been told that, but I didn't realize that I never understood such a fact of life until recently. I've always loved my life. Sure it has been a little typical, but what life doesn't have aspects of normality? In essence though, I've viewed it as highly simplistic. I work for what I want, want what I work so hard for. I say what I mean, mean what I say. Have people in my life whom I love, love the people in my life. Pursue my passions, have passions worthy of pursuing. As simple as that.
However, things aren't often as easy as they sound. Situations you find yourself in surprise you. People, even those you may think you know well, surprise you. Life surprises you. Maybe it's life's way of keeping you in check. Maybe it is to make you who you were meant to become. Hell, maybe it's pure coincidence. Fact of the matter is that things happen whether you were expecting them or not. You have to deal with life's sudden changes in the best way you know how and more importantly, you have to live with those decisions you make.
People have always been fascinating to me. Their peculiar habits, distinct differences in perspective, and unpredictable actions. However, I don't think I've ever experienced their biting pettiness to such a full extent. Newsflash: there are people out there that suck you dry of everything you have. Quite literally. There's a possibliitly that they truly don't realize their vampiristic ways. However, there's also a possibility that it's not worth having people like that in your life anyway. It took me a while to come to this seemingly easy conclusion. The journey to such a discovery though was pretty poorly lit. I used to cringe at the thought of burning bridges, but when those bridges only lead down why would I want to cross them in the first place? Afterall, the view is much better from higher up anyway.
With each disappointment though, comes a chance at self-discovery. Letdowns have a funny way of forcing you to reevaluate things, sometimes things you never thought needed reevaluating. When life trips you up, you are able to find out who is willing to extend a hand to help you back up. It's those that matter. It's those that are worth holding onto.
You can forgive the vampires, but it's hard to forget all the blood they sucked out of you.

"Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars."
-Avett Brothers.

At the Moment.

I don’t know why we bury our present
stomped
beneath our feet, forgotten.
Until the long years of our lives are utterly spent.

Impressions in the sand
fleeting
swept away by wind, insignificant…
What does it mean to open ones hand?

Faces of familiarity
blurred
crushing waves onto a hesitant shore, concealed.
Sometimes only heartbreak brings clarity.

Pursuing scents of thirst
longing
Grip the heavy fractured stone, squeeze.
Swelled with dripping crimson seeds about to burst.

A key waiting for the door
delayed
look not to the volatile future but, now.
Learn it’s okay to not know what’s in store.

Life that closes its mouth before calling a name
unraveling
I’m not who I once was, altered.
Things aren’t meant to stay the same.

Building up to the forthcoming relies on the present
hazy
Immersed in the attraction of life, as is.
Such is my intent.