Losing Touch

Do you ever feel numb to things and emotions around you that used to easily arouse you? Do you ever feel "un-empowered" or like you just don't engage in the same emotions anymore. It's like a country song I like; "if you're tellin' me I'm not on fire, you're just preaching to the choir, I feel as numb as old barbed wire from livin'..."

I wrote my last post about falling back into old ways, for me that being the routine of work. I think that work overpowers me and pulls me in with full force. Being a homeowner now, I always want to make more money because there's always something I want to do on my land or with my house. Yet, the more I work, the less time I spend home. Some of my work is rewarding, but some of it isn't, and i feel like I'm wasting hours of my life that I should be using in other ways.

I think I'm meant to do more. I think there is more for me out there.

I think we're all meant to do more. I think there is more for everyone out there.

I don't believe in limitations.

We all can do anything we want to. This is obvious with some of my clients who learn to do push-ups after never being able to do one, or who can cut two minutes off of their mile runs in only 8 weeks of training. And they told me they couldn't run.

How do you attain the sensation of value? Can you ever feel like you're doing enough, or does every person always strive to be better, to do more, and to set new goals immediately after the next have been reached.

How do you combat repeated burn-out? It become a cycle, but maybe each time you get stronger, like with weight training, and eventually it just doesn't happen anymore. I'm young and I'll figure it out, right?

Old Ways

Isn't it incredible how no matter what we do, we always seem to fall back into our old ways? Is this you, falling back into who you should be, or who you shouldn't be? For me, this is working a ton of hours, always being busy and never being home. I fought my schedule to create a weekend for myself, and now, within the last few weeks have found myself working 7 days again.

Most people say that it isn't healthy, but my house has been cleaner, I have eaten much better and healthier, and felt more alive and strong since I started working again. Maybe it's just myself falling into the societal role of "we all must work or we're worth nothing." I felt worthless when I was home, was restless, bored, and wanted to get out of the house. Maybe it's the fact that when I'm home, I'm never fully relaxed. Being a new home owner, there's always something to be fixed, cleaned, or gone through. I still haven't mowed my lawn this year.

I find myself wanting to be home, alone, when I am home. I guess being around people all day when you work 14 hour days creates that internal need to just be isolated. I don't want to go out on weekends like most 22 year olds, hate drinking, and would rather be sleeping early to start my day earlier. When I fall from a structured routine, my whole life falls apart.

I can't ever relax unless i'm in my element, at work.

Does anyone else find themselves falling into their old ways or their old habits? can anyone connect to this?

Back at it

Hello,
Not much to say tonight, but a whole bunch to say in upcoming posts. I'm using this blog to keep myself writing, up to date with current events, and also to keep my head AWAY from fitness and anything fitness related. My whole life has been fitness since I turned 16 and although I love helping people achieve their goals, too much of a good thing an be deadly.
Just watched the first episode of season three of Whale Wars and about to catch up on my stack of National Geographic. I hope if you read this blog you'll check Whale Wars out at 9pm on Fridays, although know there will be reruns on Animal Planet frequently. Paul Watson is a hero and an idol to me; his ruthlessness, strength, and courage, are attributes that I seek to engrave in myself as I get older and figure out what the hell I am going to do with my life.

I'm very bothered by this whole Oil Spill on the Gulf Coast. I can't figure out why the hell it happened, why it hasn't been reprimanded more severely (money is nothing to a major corporation, and why it hasn't already been cleaned up. 700 birds already dead? I heard a statistic from a client today who told me that for every one bird that is found dead or harmed by the deadly oil, 4-8 more have been killed are harmed. That means that means that it is possible that close to 6,000 birds are now dead. I haven't heard much about the other marine life, although imagine how many fish are dead, fisherman jobless, and ocean wildlife destroyed. This is the biggest man-caused environmental catastrophe that I have personally lived through and watching it on CNN nearly brings me to tears every time.
I told a friend that I'd drop everything I have now: my home, my life, my jobs here, if I was given an opportunity to get down the gulf and save some of those animals. I'll be in Florida next week and I'm both eager and afraid to see the impact on the spills at the beach.
There has got to be some sort of penalty for BP, especially after over 750 OCEA violations. My client suggested a corporate "death penalty" for such a tragic "accident" and i totally agree with this. That company needs to be shut down. I saw a commercial today, I believe by the national Guard, about American Energy and switching our powering sources to non-oil fueling mechanics. Why isn't more attention being paid to these ideas? If we used some of our money that is currently being put toward overseas battles for oil, we'd have less war, more productivity, and an interdependence solely based in this country.
My next car will absolutely be electric...

The Routine of Things

I love and hate routine. I love it when everything goes as planned, and hate it when everything gets fouled up. I'm training for my bodybuilding show in a month, and now that I'm eating a low carb diet, I'm tired all the time. Conclusively I'm sleeping more, and then I can't sleep at night.

My girlfriend likes the room warm, I like it freezing cold. She always wins. I cannot sleep at night anymore. I'm sweating as we speak.

I don't really have anything intelligent to write tonight, just kind of irritated at myself that I'm going to spend all night not able to sleep, and then all day tomorrow tired and trying to sneak out to my truck to nap. I HATE IT!

There are so many days I hate my job. I want a normal, 9-5 desk-job. I think everyday I want it more. I know I'd be active outside the 9-5 time barrier, and being so active now is aging my body at an untimely rate. Add in the fact that I'm a lunatic.

I'm really giving the field of fitness just a little more time before I say forget about it and do something else. I don't really know what though, my two loves are fitness and writing. Both have no real jobs or career paths, and both aren't considered "real jobs" by society- go figure. Now let me tell you that I'm 50% through with an English degree, and 50% through with an exercise science degree. I'm doomed, huh?

I hate everything

I think one of the toughest things in life is to avoid becoming cynical, period.

You're in a work-place where you feel like you're always walking on egg shells. The house is always a mess; there's always something to clean. The dog wants to go for a walk, every ten minutes. stress levels sky rocket and you can never please everyone- ever.

Recently, I've learned that if you're pissed at somebody, the best way to cope with it is to just flat out tell them. Holding it in is painful and whether they react the way you want or the way you don't, it feels a hell of a lot better afterwords. This works at work (granted you don't get fired, and I thought I might this past week) and it works in any other relationship in your life.

If the people you confront care about you at all, your words will mean something to them and they'll respond, directly or indirectly. Sometimes you've got to let the emotion spill over, anger, tears, and everything in between.

It's hard, I know, but putting down the pounds and pounds you've been lugging around over time feels good, and you'll sleep a lot easier after. Again, trust me on this. I know first hand.

On the other hand, if the people you confront don't care and don't respond, forget about them. That's a place, a job, or a relationship that you don't need. I totally life by the motto surround yourself with those who bring you higher and if certain people in your life don't, then you don't want them in it.

I had about one hour of sleep last night, yet for some reason, after over two months of feeling angry and being cynical, I was excited to go to work today. I was tired as hell, but I still felt incredibly great after my last weeks confrontations, and work went well in my mind, whether things changed or they didn't.

Life is what you make it. If you view it as bad, too hard, depressing, or just plain crappy, that's how it will be. There's always something to look forward to. There's good in so many people, and that is enough to keep me going.

Conclusively, you've just got to let certain things go. You can't please everyone. If you try to, you'll live in pain, twisting and turning with every night's unsuccessful attempt to fall asleep. Sometimes one night of one stress-free hour of sleep is worth more than one night of eight hours of tossing and turning. Believe it.

System Reset

This is quick because it's late, but it's something I needed to do. I NEED to keep myself writing, so if I'm not working on my book, I need to at least get myself to write on here. All of my old followers probably forgot about this blog by now, but that's okay. Maybe I can recruit some new ones? HA.

So, my quick update is that I'm working on a book. More on that to come, but through my job as a personal trainer, I've found a great mentor who actually is a literary agent and is encouraging me to keep writing. The deal is, if I write, she looses weight, and we help each other. It's win win! Writing is something I miss. It's something I need in my life. Every day, some how, in some shape or form.

Life brings on so much, for me it's long and excruciating work hours, training for a fitness competition, being a dog owner and boyfriend, and a new home-owner. Regardless, writing is good for me in many ways, and if I ever want to write a book, I ought to keep punching letters on my Mac.

Encourage me. Yell at me if I don't post. I need this.

Good-night.

"Everything changes..."

It's incredible just how much you can tell about a person by the way they start their day. By that, I mean literally the way a person gets out of bed can reveal so much about their personality, state of mind, and will to live.
You've got your two polar ends. One person jumps out of bed to an alarm of dance music and is almost immediately singing as he/she picks out the days attire. The opposite of that is the person who, well, just doesn't get up. That person is obviously depressed, maybe suicidal, and probably been through some traumatic life experiences.
Then there's the rest of the people. Everyone gets up in different ways. Some hit the "snooze button on their alarm clocks, some sleep through their alarms, and some wake up slowly and then drag their feet to a refreshing cup of Folgers coffee.
How do you get up in the morning? Do you dress with the lights on, or prepare for your day in darkness. Do you smile when you look in the mirror, or do you dread the day ahead. Do you sit at the side of your bed for a moment, contemplating falling backward back into it, or do you hustle through your mornings routine because you're excited to do whatever you're waking to do.

It's funny too, noticing the change in the way you start your day now compared to how you used to start your day. Maybe you hate your job. Maybe your routine is old and boring. Maybe you've lost the will to live, or lost the electric shock of passion that jolted you awake at sun-up.

I see this change in myself now. I was excited to wake up months ago, but now I can't exactly say the same. This is like a cycle for me; I try something new. I'm happy. I get used to it. I'm unhappy. I strive for change. I make change. Everything starts over.

Maybe this is a good thing. Like I've conquered one mountain and
something inside me, maybe my heart, is telling me "Rob it's time to move on."
Maybe I have some sort of a medical dysfunction. Maybe I'm depressed or
bi-polar. Maybe I'm just too damn cynical.

To best explain what's missing from my life, I'll make a few comparisons.

• The "high" that drugs or alcohol can do to a person. When you're high, anything and everything else doesn't matter, you're captured in that moment and that time, and you forget certain things that keep you up at night while feeling alive and refreshed.
• The excitement of an 8 year old on his birthday. There are tons of presents in front of him, but he still can't open them until he blows out his birthday candles. His future sits before him wrapped in all different colors; shiny and dull paper, balloons and clowns on another. Each gift is a new high; one gift may change his life without him ever knowing.
• The feeling of love. Heart pounding all the time because you can't get that person off your mind. To me, love is a thousand different things. Care, compassion, commitment, passion, and risk to name a few. If one element is weak, that love WILL falter. You can love lots of things besides another person. You can love what you do, how the sky looks; clear and calm after a rainstorm, or the smell of fresh-cut grass which probably means nothing to most people but reminds you of the time when you were young when your father would let you ride on his lap as he mowed the lawn.

I just don't feel alive anymore. I feel like the energy in my life has been sucked away. I can't get excited for things I should be, and I don't love the things I used to. I'm not consciously giving up, but for some reason, I feel myself letting go.

I'm fighting though; trying to plan my next few steps and stay afloat once again. I've got tons of unopened presents in front of me and I'm hoping that just maybe, the next one I open may be the one that changes my life.

"The runway sings an honest song; it's here I know I don't belong..."

Sometimes I feel trapped. I feel like that bride that you see on made-for-TV-movies who, the night before her wedding, runs off with another guy and bails on all the people waiting to see her get married. Isn't that what "Run Away Bride" is about? I've never seen it, but it sounds like it would be.
All of a sudden I feel married; I've got this house and this job, and this consistency in my life that makes me nervous and nauseous, and all other negative N words (that aren't racial or sexual). Seriously though, thinking that I'm going to be stuck in the same job and in the same place for the next for years, or any prolonged period of time freaks me out. I want to run away.
To be honest, I'm not sure if it all feels right. I'm not sure if it all feels wrong either, I just feel like I'm here to do something more, and haven't figured out what that something more is.
The next five months are looking pretty grim for me. I'm doing a ton of things that should make me happy; taking a class in dietetics, firefighting school, personal training and teaching aerobics, and leading one entire team in a "largest looser" weight-loss competition. For some reason, happy is sometimes the only emotion I don't feel.

I don't think I'm depressed, just kind of in search for something else;
something bigger and something that can give my life clarity and meaning. The
bottom line is this; if you know me and I don't seem myself but can give you no
explanation as to why, it's because deep down inside me, something is missing.

To me, life is like one of those "Magic Eye" books. You know, the books where the right page lists items and on the left side you find them, or something like that. If you know the books that I'm taking about, life to me is exactly like that. There's these items listed there, and you find the first few with no problem, then all of a sudden it asks you to find something obscure, like a shoelace or a pine tree in a forest of oaks. You slam the book shut because you've been looking for a long time, but no matter what you do, something always lures you back to that book. Maybe after a while you find what you're looking for, but maybe you never do. Maybe you never will.
I can be in the gym or driving home at midnight from a late shift of work, and all of a sudden that urge hits me. That urge to figure things out and to find that something that's missing. I know it's there just like I know that somewhere in that book hides a shoelace and a pine tree, but sometimes I wonder if I'll find it, if it'll someday hit me right in the face. Will I always be looking, aimlessly and in the dark, or will I eventually become agitated, tired, and numb, and decide to slam the book shut, forever giving up my search for something that like it or not, eats away at me everyday and every night.

My Ride Home

I've spent a lot of time thinking. I spent a lot of time thinking tonight.

I guess not being a full-time college student anymore- finally having the chance to do the things I've always wanted to do, kind of gives me the opportunity to figure things out. I do this a lot, try to figure things out. I think too much.

I've always had everything I wanted. I've always been given everything I want, everything I need, and everything I don't. Not everybody drives a brand new truck, has a house at 22, can be successful at his job, prosperous and happy, and not everyone has healthy lungs, working arms and legs, and a strong heart. Sometimes I'm ungrateful.

I think about that a lot. What am I going to do with all those things? Some people who have less, much less, do far greater things, and me, with all that I have been bless-fully given, have so much to give. How can I give?

I don't think everyone really thinks about their purpose, or why they are living and breathing; why they wake up every morning and carry on their lives day in and day out. It's sometimes thoughtless process driven by urge and necessity.

I've come so far, yet I know I have so much more to learn and so much more to do. So many more lives to touch, to change, and to help. It's hard to figure it out sometimes. When things are truly good, when they're not, when to stand by someone, when to leave, when to move on with your life, and when to say "hey, I just can't- not yet." Maybe not ever.

What's this all mean? I'm not so sure, but tonight on my drive home, I thought about it all. I'll think about it tomorrow, and I'll think about it forever. Maybe someday I'll be judged, or maybe someday I'll die and just be gone, proving those scientists right who say that when you're dead, you're dead. maybe I'll be reincarnated, go to heaven and visit lost friends and family, and those I never met.

I just know, that whatever the case may be, I don't want to ever be forgotten.

"Even when you don't know that people are watching you."

Please think about this

What's Not On The Label

My dreams of a life outside this cage

come blurred, mouth foaming and body numb.

It stiffens when they come and inject their needles.

I don't know what they're doing

or why they're doing it to me-

why I'm here, or if I'll ever leave.

They tell me "it's okay,"

that I'm a good boy,"

while softly petting me

and fill my veins with a poison that slowly

pulls me in and out of nightmares

sometimes more soothing than images in my conscious mind.

I don't want to be here

but I know nothing else.

I used to feel lonely

but now I can't feel anything,

my body so impaired that when my heart beats my limbs shake.

And later, a man sits cross-legged at his kitchen table drinking expensive tea with his beautiful wife. "After all that work, the damn medicine turned out not to even work. Had to toss the whole experiment into the garbage."

And while he sips, the beagle lies alone in his cage. His lungs collapsed, no longer allowing air into his body. No photo montage of a life-well lived flashes before his eyes, but as his eyes slowly close, he's comforted by his reoccurring dream of a small boy laughing and playing with him, his tail wagging happily each morning as he's lovingly hugged at the neck. 

The child lets go, and the beagle's eye-lids fall shut.

The Pro's and the Con's of the "Good Life"

Things have been going great lately. I joined a martial arts gym and have been kickboxing every day. For the most part my diet is back in control, although every 2-3 days I get an uncontrollable urge for sugar (I'm battling some kind of "detox eating disorder" from post bodybuilding training, my body lacked carbs for so long I get these uncontrollable craving now that the only thing I can do is fulfill them). I have been able to start doing things that make me happy again; horseback riding, reading, writing, and drawing. AND, I have gotten involved with PETA and am working on starting a Wallingford-Cheshire Animal Rights Group (stay tuned for more information). I have my dream truck, I am very close to having my dream house ( a cabin-like two floor house in the woods with a huge porch and a yard).  My job's good- I work at basically a spa so when I'm not personal training or teaching aerobics, I can be working out, playing basketball, or in the sauna/steamroom. AND, finally, I'm on a great routine, up early and in bed early(ish). 

The con's of this life are as follows; 

The more I find myself, the more distant I become from my friends. 

It's like this: everybody goes out on Thursdays and Fridays, and Saturdays, and I'd rather be kickboxing, or working out, or working, or trying to save money. I'd rather be volunteering, or outside, reading, or horseback riding.  Unfortunately those are all hobbies that are not shared with my friends, and they're mostly things to do alone. I find it hard to relate and connect with other people. Have you read before in my previous blog posts that living like this is lonely?

The economy stinks right now, so even though my jobs great, the hours aren't. It's to the point where I have to decide "gas or groceries." It's even harder now as a vegetarian, having to buy organic soy products and expensive whole foods, fruits, and vegetables. 

I have no idea how I'm going to afford my truck and house. I haven't had a full tank of gas since I got my truck. 

I have a lot of free time, and I'm using it for me, but it costs money. Kickboxing costs money. It costs money to drive to kickboxing all the way in Rocky Hill. Even if I had people calling me to go out and do things, I wouldn't be able to because I literally have no money in my bank account. All my new hobbies take up time, which I could use to work another job. My other jobs make it almost impossible for me to have another job because the hours are so random and scattered. 

It's tough living at home. I got along better with my parents when I didn't see them every single day, all the time, and they weren't in my life and business 100%. I think this is true for every parent/kid relationship. I need to get out.

I'm trying to stay positive. I'm having fun, enjoying having the chance to "find out who I am" and finally feel like I have a purpose again. Unfortunately, money means everything in life. Those who say that money doesn't = happiness obviously haven't really struggled with it that badly. Money isn't everything, but it definitely is important in life. I just wish I could find a way to make a little bit more so the stress could be lifted off my shoulders. 

Back Online!

Hello everyone... I'm happy to say that I'll be back posting on this blog and taking a break from my fitness blog. For those of you who followed my fitness blog, I'm sorry I haven't been updating it... I have started a few new more "professional" jobs and have chosen to keep my own personal fitness endeavors private for now. You may see me update it at so e point next year if I decide to try and body-build again in the spring, but that seems doubtful as of right now. Feel free to contact me with any fitness questions if you previously used my blog as a resource.

So what's been going on in my life outside of fitness? I'm working a lot, personal training a lot of new clients and also working with the town of Cheshire a lot more now since it's the summer. I love that job- having the chance to make a positive impact on the kids and be a role model for some of them who don't have anyone to look up to. 

Other than that, all of my hobbies have mostly been fitness related; I just joined a martial arts gym, something I have always been wanting to do (spirit, mind, body is what I always tell my clients). Martial arts are great for people in so many ways other than physical fitness, and I'll be taking classes in boxing, kickboxing, Muy Tai, Ju Jitzu, and grappling, all in a weekly basis. I'll be attending 5-7 classes next week alone. 

I have also been doing a lot more for myself. Reading, writing, drawing, writing music and playing the guitar, and spending more time at the barn with the horses. I was there yesterday and today, trying to ride and take care of Trigger, one of the horses at the barn who my family takes care of, as much as I can. 

I also am slowly but surely converting to vegetarianism. The only reason that I'm enduring a slow conversion is because I have $150 worth of non vegetarian food in my fridge, and I need to finish that so I don't waste the money. The switch for me is not for health reasons, but 100% in protest of animal cruelty. This is something that I have always been  passionate about, but never became a vegetarian because of bodybuilding and my overdosing consumption of animal proteins. I'm smart, I know nutrition well, and I can certainly maintain muscle while not eating chicken, steak, and turkey anymore. This switch is not hard for me at all. 

Although I love chicken, I'm to the point now where I feel guilty eating it, and if you know me, you know my biggest pet peeve about people is those who talk the talk but don't walk the walk. I can't stand it when people watch the documentaries and videos on YouTube about inhumane slaughterhouses, complain and act sorrowful about them, and then proceed to get a burger for dinner that same night. I've complained and felt sorrowful for these animals, and I'm done being a part of the pain they go through. 

I have about 4 boxes of Purdue chicken and some deli-meat left in the fridge. After that's gone, I'm done with all meat (besides fish). Most people would think I'd be savoring that food, but I'm not. I can't wait for it to be gone. I'm not looking at it as my last chicken ever, I'm looking at it as "this food should never have been produced and put on grocery store shelves in the first place." 

I'm learning to like veggie and chick'n, they actually go great in whole wheat pitas. 

I'll leave you with a video; please watch it and comment. Check out www.PETA.org for more info. 

It's been a while

So here's a poem... 

Recovery Through Raindrops

 

I hadn’t smiled in a while

only smiled with you…

always wanted to be with you—

I dreamed of you.

Never held a hand like I held yours,

it felt so different, warmer and softer.

When I held you at night

things felt right—

I’d never slept that well before.

I loved waking up with you in my arms

like it was natural, you were put there for me, finally.

 

The greatness of the oceans, the beauty of the sea, the perfection of the weathered sands, and the miracle of you and me.

 

I can somehow breathe again with tranquility of raindrops

the mellowness caresses my shoulders, brings me home.

Yet every night brings nightmares that always make my heart stop—

they plague me with the feeling that I’ll always be alone.

 

Reflections from back on the east coast...

     Coming back across the county has been tough. I already feel it--the pressure to be someone I'm not, the pressure to do things I don't want to, the pressure to loose focus on my goals and the things I've been dreaming of. It's so hard to stay consistent and be who I want to be, and who I am.

I told my friend this in California; it's so crazy that some of my closest friends have ended up being some of my worst enemies. 

     Not that they try to: I conformed to what people wanted me to be, and now trying to find myself again has been hard. I know the path I want to take, and every day I fight battles to stay on it. 

     These battles are hard, and I WON'T win them all, but at the end of the day, I need to be able to get back up from my loss and remember who I am. I want to be a role model, someone that people look up to and talk about. I want people to tell their friends "he's a great guy." "He's got a good heart." 

      Back across the country, it's hard living in a place where nobody quite "gets" me. When nobody understands how you tick, they don't know what's bothering you, or if they're hurting you, and people around me here are relentless. Some days I want to fight on, and some days I want to break down. 

      It seems as though loneliness is a common theme for me. It may be my biggest fight to come. The question is, how can I defeat it?

::The Revelation::

     It's always crazy how bad you may think you want something one day, and then the next, realize you'd either built something up more than it really was in your head, or it's just not as good as you thought it was or should be.

     When this happens, it's kind of like a big let-down... it's like you spend so much time thinking and dreaming about that one thing, and then in one quick instant, it all falls down. 

     I guess it really is true, life is like a roller coaster. Sometimes there's very high highs, very low lows, and then the rest of the ride manages to stay somewhere in between. 

     I'm in California now, flying home tonight and I'll be home by tomorrow. I love being out here, but I've been away for almost two weeks and I'm ready to come home. I've decided to take summer classes and not go away to personal train in the Pocono's this summer. This may make for a miserable summer break, yet it pushes me forward in the long run, enabling me to graduate next Spring and not in two falls from now. 

     I think I want to open a gym when I graduate. The two things I love in life are fitness and reading/writing, and if I someday had my own gym, that would give me plenty of time to write. I also love helping and working with people, and opening a gym, if done right, is a great way to care for and help others. 

      This may change tomorrow.

     Hence, I guess I'm over the "I've got to be somewhere else" stage in my life. 

I would give anything to be able to move away, but the key phrase there is be able.

With the people I love, mainly my family, in Connecticut, I couldn't be away from them for too long of a time. I guess I'll have to just suck up New England's painfully cold and miserable winters, and the "up-tight, close minded, and non-health conscious" people that surround me. 

     I guess thats why I'm here... to make an impact and create a change...

The Nature of Man

            It was Friday night and I had chosen to be the designated driver for another night of college parties and beer runs; That night’s party would be taking place about twenty minutes away from my college campus. Lately I had been doing a lot of “self evaluation,” attempting to reform certain unfavorable aspects of my life. Sometimes being the only sober person in a group of drunken college kids can teach you a lot about yourself; who you are and who you don’t want to be. That night would certainly prove to be a reflective one, filled with new experiences and a final event that would keep me up for nights thereafter.

            The party was fun—not too wild or loud; the perfect environment to meet new people and not feel uncomfortable being one of the few people not drinking at the house.

            However, as the “jungle juice” (a variety of mixed liquors, juices, and sliced fruits) began to disappear from the oversized garbage can in the living room, I began to feel distanced from everyone at the party. I can only describe this “distance” as like being on the outside of a very funny inside joke. The night got later and people began laughing at everything, stumbling and falling everywhere, getting edgier and louder. It wasn’t long before I was ready to leave.

Thankfully so were some of my friends. We piled into my car and started our drive back to the University. Next to me in the front seat was one of my fraternity brothers; drunk, happy, and eager to ignite conversation within my speeding Monte Carlo. In the back seat were three girls; girls I had briefly met before yet had never actually had any real conversations with.

As we drove home, we all joked and laughed. One girl had clumsily fallen down the stairs just as we were leaving the party, and we teased another for her “awkward encounter” with one of my fraternity brothers.

It was after 1AM when we climbed the final hill that led to the girl’s college dormitory entrance. The ride had been interesting, as many comical topics had been addressed. I was finishing up conversations by flirting with the girls and preparing to say goodnight.

Without warning, in one surreal moment, world wars and poverty would be pushed aside as my world’s pain and suffering would redirect itself to the lonely street that we were driving on.

I narrowly missed it. The white figure gleamed like an angel, vibrant and captivating taking me by surprise. I was driving fast, slightly over the speed limit, and just as I began to slow down to turn into campus, the small cat darted in front of my car.

My relief of narrowly missing hitting it was suddenly exchanged with horror. Like an unexpected twist in a thought-to-be perfect movie ending, a car driving on the opposite side of the road struck the cat. It hit the cars front driver side wheel and then was propelled upward, then back down to the pavement.

Seeing this, I instinctively pulled my car over, jumping out and rushing to the cat.

The executing car sped off into the darkness and it was silent as one or two of the girls followed close behind me.

The cat wasn’t dead though. Its body twitched and contorted on the pavement, writhing in agony as it continuously tried to get up. After several seconds of doing this, it then peacefully sank to the pavement, dieing before I reached it. Ironically, the scene had seemed so over dramatic and fictitious—yet it was occurring right before me. I had never witnessed death before, only seen it acted out on soap operas and cinema screens. Sadly, this was the way that that creature would die, away from its family and in the middle of a cold New Haven street.

Part of me wanted to run back to my car and speed off too. I didn’t want to see the lifeless animal closer, and I was frightened by the possibility that it might still be alive. If I moved it I could harm it more than it was already, or worse, it could die in my arms as I carried it back to my car in hopes of driving to an emergency veterinarian clinic to try and save its life.

Yet the image of white fur contrasted with black pavement drew me forward, casting an unbreakable spell.

“That motherfucker,” I said out loud, gazing up and down the street in search of the driver who’d hit the cat. My words echoed in the night; questions about the nature of man and why people do the heartless things they do, echoing through my mind.

The remainder of the drive back to the University was silent—I clutched the steering wheel angrily, knuckles white and face expressionless.

After dropping the others off, I now had to drive to my own apartment. I felt more distant in my car alone then I had felt all night at the party. My route back would require me passing by the cat one last time.

I hoped it would be gone—that it had somehow stood up and walked away unharmed, now sitting on the lap of its owner being scratched between the ears and purring happily.

As my car approached, the white silhouette was still there, alone, motionless, and distant, in the street.

I drove by slow; the way friends and family say goodbye to a loved one at a wake. Its body was altered, probably hit by another car after I’d left it. I imagined a car filled with drunken college kids, the driver speeding up the car to run the dead body over, then laughing and making jokes that they wouldn’t remember in the morning. I felt sick to my stomach.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The image of death lingered in my bedroom, watching me as I lay in the dark, waiting to invade my dreams.

And as the nature of man is, I proceeded on with my life the next day. Somebody, a mourning cat owner, or an under paid city worker, removed the body from the street in the early morning.

I wondered about the body’s final burial; did someone bury the body under a willow tree or in some sentimental place in their backyard, standing over the broken ground teary eyed and remorseful. Or did somebody merely just toss it into a mangy garbage stained casket, only to be collected by the trash man once the dumpster was full.   The thought lingered in my head for a while, and then I wondered if it even mattered.

(A poem from a while ago)

At The Fair

A skeleton dances in the window

of a tower which harbors ghosts and fear,

and screams can be heard from inside.

Children run by me,

and hop behind the wheel

of cars which will soon crash.

One boy yells for his mother,

signaling for her to come to him.

Two more race across the green

and disappear into a crowd.

Some board alien space shuttles,

and others enter rockets;

yet some prefer the pirate ships.

People shout in the distance,

pleading for money to play

games that can’t be won,

and some girls walk by and smile at me,

as they sip from mango flavored smoothies.

I turn my head as people are suddenly propelled into the air

in an elevator stretching for the Heavens.

Their shrieks of satisfaction can be heard,

and when their feet touch the ground again,

a smile overtakes their faces.

Another child calls for his mother,

who holds a giant stuffed dog under one arm

and appears aggravated and tired.

I take everything in.

I take in the sights of pure mayhem,

which have taken over this once peaceful place.

I sit back on the bench

and eat the last nacho in my tray,

and then I close my eyes

breathing in the nights fresh air.

When I open them the mayhem is gone

and I’m alone under the star-lit sky.

"Nobody ever taught me how to live..."

     Lately I've felt like a completely different person. I've been pretty focussed on school, VERY focussed on diet and nutrition, and found myself less concerned with superficial relationships and other factors in my life. I don't know what happened, it's almost like something just clicked inside of me and said "wake up man, you're here to do more." 

     I've also had this urge to "get out" or "get away" lately. Like there's people somewhere in this world that are more like me, and I just need to figure out a way to meet them. They're not here. 

     And yes I'm lonely. 

     I feel alone because the things that I believe in, value, and drive me toward my goals are things that I share with no one, yet I know there's people out there who think the way I do. I'm sick and tired of fitting into these "molds" here in college. I just want to be myself and do what makes me feel happy and satisfied. 

     At least I feel as though I'm moving forward. There's times I feel that I'm not, or worse, I'm back tracking in my own shoes. Lately I've been accomplishing a lot, and proving a lot of things to myself. I'm a lot more confident now. I've found this confidence within the last few weeks and again, I don't know where it came from. 

     I'm also struggling with A LOT of internal conflicts. Nothing I want to post on this blog, but they deal with both relationships and addictions. These things have nothing to do with anyone; it's all within me. 

     My biggest struggle is something I have heard a lot about before I ever struggled with it. It's something I've been told of and warned of, and something I've felt since the day I started college four years ago. Everything around me is different now; but they haven't changed... I have. 

     I find it hard to adapt. 

     I want to start over everyday. It's one of my goals- it's something that drives me to graduate college with good grades, and hopefully soon I'll be out of here... at least for a while. 

     California is ideal, it's where I feel I belong right now. It's where I plan to be very soon. 

     

(FLASH FICTION)

                  The man walks. The man, plump and bright approaches the Volkswagen. Sees his reflection—shudders then chuckles.

                  The keys come in full force across the sky. Magically, they jingle across the parking lot and into his palm. He unlocks the door, opens it. One bare foot in, than the other. Suddenly, one bare foot out, than the other. He wonders where his sandals have gone. He shudders, then chuckles, wiggles his toes and gets out.

                  Magic again as the doors mysteriously lock without the jingling keys. He is enlightened. He is at peace.

                  He sits on the roof of the wagon. Calm and still, he is interrupted by a salesman. He pleas for a sale but there is no success.  He shudders, then chuckles, takes back the keys, and goes back inside. And the sacred man is lost in thought. Sandals pass through his mind, taking away pain from pebbles lodged in the bottom of his feet and between his toes.

                  The earth spins at its axis. Somewhere, a baby is born. Then another. Cars move in and out of the lot, yet he remains silent and distant.

                  A crowd gathers.  The crowd points at a man, plump and bright, who sits indian style on the roof of a Volkswagen. Some claim he floats, but none get close enough to tell.

                  And then he returns from his journey. He shudders, then chuckles, seeming not to notice the crowd. He rolls down off the car.

                  He waves his hands high in the air, and the crowd’s jaws drop in awe. They shudder, then chuckle.

                  Out comes the salesman, who has been keeping eye from his desk. 

                  “I’ll take it,” says the man, plump and bright.

                  The salesman hands the round man the keys in exchange for a sack, light and fat. The exchange is quick, and the man, plump and bright, is soon on his way. He walks down the street barefoot, jingling his new set of keys. The salesman leans against the Volkswagen. Inside the sack he finds happiness. As he empties it, flower petals fall to the ground, some blowing away in the wind. He shudders, then chuckles.

 

The Take-Over

     Have you ever had an emotion or feeling that no matter what you do, you can't lure it out of your mind? Usually it's spurred by something new in your life; an experience, idea, or a person.         

     This feeling IS NOT an obsession. It's just a feeling, like jealousness, sadness, pride, or love. It's a strong feeling that overtakes all other feelings. It keeps you up at night and causes daydreams during the day. 

     You still proceed through your everyday business, normally to others, but obstructed inside your head. 

     Sometimes this feeling is good, sometimes it's bad. And sometimes, you don't know if it's either. 

     The feeling is not always definable. It can be somewhere between love and hate, fear and courage, or desire and disgust. 

     You can have the best day ever, yet this feeling stops you from feeling good. You wish that the trigger of this emotion just didn't exist, yet it does, and it isn't going away. Feelings aren't things that can simply be erased or forgotten- it takes a dramatic turn in that emotion, good or bad to change it. 

     There's questions in my life that I need answered. They consume me. Realistically I know that only time can answer them, yet they have taken over my thoughts and dreams. 

     Inside me I feel the urge for an outcome. Good or bad, I need resolution. I need to get back to "normal." I need to get back to sleeping at night. 

     Have you ever had an emotion or feeling that no matter what you do, you can't lure it out of your mind?