Who Knew

Guys, guys, guys...  it's not about who you are, but what you do that defines you.  That is something that everyone should not only know, but trust.  So where is the line between knowledge and trust, and who draws that line, and what substance is the line drawn.  I'm sure there are more questions to be asked, but neither you or me has the resources to produce such answers.  I was taught once that riding a bike was not difficult if you "trusted" yourself.  My response was filled with excuses about not having the proper knowledge needed to succeed.  Neither side is necessarily correct, but there has to be a preference.  So this is where "who draws the line" comes into play.  We all know it takes two to (alliteration) not only tango, but argue.  The difference is that several can argue, but only two can tango. So who has the upper hand; who leads the dance?  Most would think that the strong, outspoken would lead both the argue and the tango, but is that true?  Confidence is not always proven by actions, but acknowledged through performance.  The one who refuses to bat the lashes regardless of circumstances prevails as the ring leader, and the ring is made of chalk.  Chalk, then, must be the substance used to mark the boundary, but do all shoes fit?  Not in my diagnosis.  The substance can be any instrument with the ability to produce lines in the sand.  Now you just have to figure out a way to get to a beach.  We can all know how to trust something.  I believe it is much easier to know something than to trust something.  Knowledge can be tangible, yet can you truly know something.  It has been said that one fears what you do not know.  I kinda agree with that.  I honestly fear what I cannot understand, and  understanding is on trust's side of the line.  I know how to drive a car, but can I trust the car to run properly? So this debate can go on forever, and we all know I can write forever, but can you know forever?  And better yet, can you trust forever?  The scary thing is, you have to.  I think I am willing to do that, but if you are not, simply re-evaluate.  To know something is to trust something.  Maybe this is why I am so smart.  Just maybe?

observations on a fist date

Trying to be casual. Trying. As if one really could be casual in these situations. It’s a first meeting on crack. It’s a casual cup of coffee or a cheap meal at gunpoint. There has got to be a better way to do this but social norms insist that we continue in the tradition. A first date. No combination of words inspires more awkward, sweaty palm type feelings. Your stomach drops. Is it excitement ore the idea that one of you must carry a conversation for at least a solid hour. This is assuming you both want to go which many a “hot” girl could tell you is a wrong assumption. When the feeling is not mutual, but pity is the inspiring feature, this date is only going one way.  Often times it is the weaker sex that holds all the power in these delicate situations. Whoever decided to give it to them in the first place is the bane of every man. Nothing can be said outright… exactly. Hints are encouraged in this place. Guesses and God forbid.. Flirting is encouraged here. If anyone could see themselves flirting they would immediately throw up or fight themselves. Either equally violent reactions would be appropriate. You could not be more aware of how un-funny that joke was but you are required to not only a simple courtesy laugh which would suffice anywhere else but to stand up, on the table point and scream that you may in fact suffer from a respiratory failure if the thought of the joke is even brought up again. After seeing yourself and wiping to vomit of your shoes and washing the blood from you hands you realize: I have to do this. But lets look back at the poor fellow who is in the pity date. He is looking at one of two things: an overly interested constantly agreeing bobbing face or the back of an i-phone. To every girl, the i-phone is a ten-foot brick wall that can keep out even the most persistent of invaders. By keeping the phone constantly at the face level of the intruder she can almost forget he is there. Almost. The previous is almost certainly worse. I think I am hilarious. Ask me I will tell you. But every conjunction that comes out of my mouth cannot possibly be the most interesting thing YOU ever heard. Most certainly our overly sympathized beau will leave this kind of meeting realizing just how stupid he is for asking her in the first place. Now our suitor is not completely innocent in this crime against humanity. He did ask her in the first place. He knew she was “out of his league” but he gathered up the courage, whether liquid or spiritual and crafted that immensely deep, full of longing text… “Hey”. That  “hey” is the springboard. It is Columbus’s Barcelona; a launching point. From this deep thought provoking plea all else springs out. Now this particularly cynical view would not be complete without observing a success story. The first date that begins a life, a history. They both being the ordeal with a kind of giddiness that puts a child sitting at the top of the stairs waiting to “come to see what Santa brought you!” at a far second place. They tell anyone who will listen what is about to happen, and for the weaker sex, the analyzing begins. The date is scripted to say the least. It is a dance, it is sheet music, it is a full Broadway number. It is metered and timed. The PhD’s of first dates will tell you exactly how this will go and all is planned for accordingly. This is the female. Our hero is shrouded in mystery. In all likelihood, every one of his roommates will come to each proposed meeting place 4 times throughout the course of the night and say what every bonehead is required to say to his friend clearly on a date, “are you on a date”. Of course when our man returns home he will burry his roommate accordingly. It would be wrong to say it is not awkward. It is. But the silence tells the story. The silence is awkward, it is noticed, it is like an elephant riding a rhino creating an “I just can not wait to be king” kind of spectacle. But it is appreciated. The soon to be lovers stop, notice it and realize that it is not words that should fill the silence, but each other. 

The Lights

Reflection is something that can easily be taken for granted and forgotten about.  Out of all the things that we do and of all the memories made, we get caught up in the now, and especially with the busy schedules and lifestyles that we live.  But I think reflection can  be rejuvenating.  Actually, I know it can.  Ted knows this too.  He used to be big on just sitting back, relaxing, and soaking up all the things around him.  He was once even told that he was very observant.  I guess that is a good thing.  But one of Ted's favorite things to do was to sit around, the atmosphere, of course, being Christmas themed, and just hang out with all his buds, who were usually playing music.  But since Ted loved music, he and his friends were very close.  Heck, they still are.  Very close.  But he slightly turned away from this hobby, maybe because Christmas had passed, but it really never had anything to do with Christmas.  The things that he used to love to do, he just simply stopped doing.  The flame of passion was blown out by the clock.  Ted was suddenly busy, he thought.  He lost sight of what used to drive him, his lively hood.  But from what he has recently told me, he's got it back.  He now embraces the silence, because it deserves it; he embraces the dark, because he deserves it; he embraces the sounds, because they need it; he embraces the lights, because he needs it.  The relevance of each is important to the functions of all.  These things has Ted remembering what it is like to be sinking down lowly, carpet below him, fingers actively typing away, with the sweet atmosphere filled with sounds of silence and the slow hum of the heart being poured out Forever Ago.  There is something about that sound that refuses to decay. So with all the things that have come and gone from now till then, I can still remember to hit the lights.

Say Hey

So of all the things that have been going on lately, I can't think of a better one than the smell of a new car, or maybe the grip of the steering wheel.  Oh wait, yes I can, how about the destination?  But most people say that the trip is half the fun.  I could agree with that.  But what if the fun totaled more than one?  What if there was several half's?  Now that I can really appreciate.  There are a couple of instances where this stands true.  It only makes it better when the trip is one that you did not see coming.  When you had no earthly idea that a trip had been planned.  This is what makes it great.  The unexpectedness of a well-planned trip is something to cherish.  So there it is, a trip is about to start.  The first and most important thing is to simply follow the instructions given to you by the planner.  I mean, they supposedly know what is taking place, so the only thing you can do is to trust them, but when you are behind the wheel, in the driver's seat, now what?  The only thing you were sure of is that all you had to do was follow instructions, but now you are in the position to take the lead role.  I know that I am not the type to take on the lead role, but everyone has to make sacrifices from time to time, even if that sacrifice means that you are in control.  Dude, what a sacrifice.  But even though all is up in the air, the show must go on.  So, without question, the trip continues.  While on this trip, the thought of similar trips joins the conversation.  Always fun to talk about those.  They make you realize just how good these trips are and how long its been since you have had a good, quality trip, even if it has only been a week or two.  So how about it?  Destination complete.  And this is supposed to be where all the fun happens, and I believe in the conservation of enjoyment theory.  Enjoyment can be transferred from one object to another, but cannot be created nor destroyed.  So why not always enjoy enjoyment.  Easier said than done I admit, but it is not that hard.  Why waste time anticipating the arrival of something else?  I don't know.  Sounds dumb.  So instead of wasting time, just grind.

Strongth

Strength is a quality that is rarely observed as being one that can hurt you, or prohibit you.  When people talk of strength, they always see it as a positive thing, and maybe it always is.  Something I have learned in my years is that something is hardly ever "always"; even the most sure things can seem questionable at times.  In my case, strength is being questioned.  To become strong, the path is never an easy one, but the reward is said to be worth it.  I am not questioning this, I am questioning whether it is necessary to be strong.  For some time now,  I have had to tell myself that the tough times are only making me stronger.  I would love to be able to whole-heartily agree to this, but I just cannot seem to do it.  My disagreement lies with the issue that to become strong, one must become weak.  Now weakness is something no one likes to associate themselves with.  I am going to die to my strength now and admit that I am pretty weak.  My weakness hurts.  It causes physical pain, but hey, it is just making me stronger, right?  Maybe so, but I cannot see it.  The only thing I can clearly see is the fact that I am very weak, and I do not want to be.  I want to be the strongest of the strong, knowing that will never be the case.  I work at accepting my weakness, but that only makes it worse.  Coming up with solutions for my weakness seems hopeless.  Then I realize that it is just that.  I will always be weak.  There is no killing my weakness, but I can overcome it.  There is a way to become strong enough to make my weakness seem hidden. Does this go back on all things I have mentioned?  Probably.  But I am about to be strong, and I know just how to make that happen. So what do I do?  How do I become strong?  Simply just get in the car.

waiting

its not a matter of how long i am willing to wait anymore. i know she will show up. she has to. i made a plan with her. essentially i gave her everything she wanted. all she has to do is pick me up from this stupid class and then we can go and i will buy her the best birthday dinner she has ever had. maybe smooch a little while we watch a good movie at my appartment, just a solid night. its not atypical that she show up late. for some reason i am always early i am always prompt and excited but she is always a little late. oh she has good reasons but still. to think in the last year of school that i had met her. i really think she is the one.. i mean thats the  kinda thing we all like to think and i would be lying if i said that i had not felt that before but this time... it could be. i had poured so much into her. so much time so much joy. no regrets but still alot of time. i know she loves to be late but this is insane i am taking her to her birthday dinner. she would never forget about me. all she has to do is pick me up. i am waiting. just pick me up.

Yeah

Anticipation is something that can come and go throughout conversation.  Meaning this as, for instance, excitement caves in on a conversation.  A participant cannot help but to feel some type of anxiousness.  Everyone has experienced some type of dramatic anticipation, there is no way around it, but what about someone who is or has experienced several different anticipations.  You may think this is not a healthy feeling, but I disagree.  Having several things to look forward to can be quite useful.  By not completely giving all concentration towards one greeting can tear a man from the inside out.  The anticipation of one moment, the long awaited arrival of something phenomenal, the simple joy in an overdue conversation can be devastating.  So, in my opinion, to spread the focus around to different parties can prevent a meltdown of imaginable proportions.  This breakdown may not be visible from the outside, but if the mind was on speakerphone, every one would listen closely.  A thing could be eating at a man's core, but only he could know it, and even if he did express this to others, only he would truly understand the struggle.  So many things we have to look forward to.  We mark our calenders for days that are months away.  We do this for a couple of reasons: we give ourselves something to look forward to, we are honestly excited about something, or we are not happy with the state that we are in.  It is usually a combination of these things, and there are also more elements involved in the equation, but those are the first reasons I came across.  I believe the worst one is the third one in ascending order from left to right.  The reason this is so dangerous is because we are secretly trying to runaway from something, to get away.  This can make time seem to stop, and no one wants that, especially in this predicament.  But it is when this problem is attached to the second one in order that allows us to survive the long, strenuous fight with anticipation.  To be truly excited about something is a great feeling.  You do not want the event to come too soon because you will not know what to do with yourself when it has gone away.  You look back, wishing something that awesome would come again just so you can be excited once more.  Excitement is usually not continuous, but comes and goes as pleases.  So we try to savor the moment when true excitement presents itself.  I have been excited for several things for an extended amount of time.  I have been fortunate enough to gain a new interest when another disappears, but my fortunate state is constant, for I have one thing that I can always look forward to.  When this time comes, I believe I will not need anything to look forward to; satisfaction will last.  That is a good feeling.  The struggles of waiting can be very rewarding.  I will know all about tomorrow night, but even after that, I have something else to cast my wishful thoughts upon.  Let's just say I am lucky, for these thoughts will soon no longer be wishful.  But until then, the several headed monster of anticipation will be struck down... by Harry Potter.