A Sleepless Spring

Sleep has been coming very slowly as of late. The haze between consciousness and dreams wavers as I swim beneath the sheets. They grow warm from my body, too warm in fact, and I throw them off of me, but then fuzzy bumps form on my legs from the air pouring from the vent. In frustration I rise from my bed and seek solace in text.

Perhaps the sleepless nights are coming from all of the thoughts that parade through my mind. Stress always peaks at this time of year, spring, the rebirth, but as a gay man, the rebirth I see in the world, never hits me in the way that I think it should, in the way I want it to. Thus, an unsounded restless enters me, and I face mismatched schedules for the sleeping and waking worlds that I keep.

It's time like this that I appreciate the solitude that I keep, for if someone were here my restless-ness would only disrupt and cause me feelings of guilt, and eventual resentment. Yet it's also times like this that I find great trouble with my solitude for the burning desires of spring create overpowering chemicals within myself to seek another. It's no wonder that I cling to my solitude though, for the rift between the desires of my mind and the temptations of my flesh seperate me and I must choose sides. We all must choose sides at times, we all must.

Happy Cinco De Mayo

Imagining

The music of Adam Fields playing Track 2 rolls over me, sliding around my skin, careening over the caluses and scars that I have gotten in the world. I close my eyes and I imagine... I imagine.

There is a warm feeling in my stomach, something that I haven't felt in a long time, a very long time... the feeling that everything in this world will be okay. The feeling that tomorrow the sun will shine, the wind will blow, and that I will be able to continue to breathe in and out and thank God that I am still alive.

I have been in a dark depression since Dallas. Dark days created by my mind's eye, and I have sought refuge in the most lowly of places... self delusion and imprisonment. Yet, as I sit here the solitary sounds that Adam wields bring forth a solace that I have needed, the breath that I have wanted, and the peace that I longed for.

Slowly I am reopening that prison door and gazing upon the world, not like a child with innocent eyes, but as a veteran returning from a bloody war. I know beyond my own presentment that nightmares of destruction will plague my sleep, that demons will still possess me, but the knowledge of new days, new ships, new lives, bring forth the Spring of my being... and thus I weep.

But then, like all that is and must ever be, I stop imagining, and return from the warm feeling in my stomach to my reality. A lonely guy that only finds comfort in his shadow.

Fortune Cookie: Never overanalyze a smile

Mileage May Vary

In a conversation last night someone told me that my eyes were different, they didn't have that light they once had. In truth I don't know this person very well, but the comment hit home. I am different. I am much different. Looking over pictures, I can see a difference in my smile, my eyes, and through internal recall, in my movement and speech.

It's so difficult to know why I am different though. Time changes, that's a fact, but is time the cause of my disilluisionment with the world? Is time the main factor. I have nothing to compare this life to, nothing to hold it up against to see how I measure, how it all measures. Thus, I am left at a complete loss on what to think and how to feel about my current situation and the predicaments it holds.

I had a conversation with my best friend last week, and he told me that I cannot compare myself to others. I cannot judge what I am and where I am with the content and places that others are experiencing. While his speech held true, as is often the case, my world is a world of comparison and constrast, yet I know within myself that I don't need anyone's validation but my own. Holding true to this statement is obviously much more difficult than reciting it. Isn't that always the case?

My State Showing Off


Twiggy, billed as the world's only water-skiing squirrel, performs to the delight of onlookers at the Tulsa Boat Sport and Travel Show at the Expo Center in Tulsa Wednesday. (AP Photo)

Sometimes people ask me what there is to do in Oklahoma. What magnificent sights or attractions we have. Well we have the normal things, malls, bowling, and dance clubs. However, this week we had the honor of having a patriotic skiing squirrel.

Have a good weekend everybody.

jOSH

Me, Myself, & I

Her eyes glazed up at me. Motionless and light-less they stared, and I stared, befixed with a horror that I had never felt, never seen, never encountered. Her life was a shell, and whatever notion that set me into the motion of being in this class, at this table, made an echo in my mind. Politely excusing myself from my group, I walked to the bathroom to gather my reserves and to call upon my inner well to hold me together. A tear ran down my cheek, but I returned to the table and was able to continue with my assignment.


It has come in waves this week, like the ocean's beating upon the beach. I am hit, hit, hit, hit, by the crashing of depression's surf upon my shore. My sanity tightens, holds, and I bare the force of nature with all that I can muster. I must remain, I must refrain, from perishing within the proximal fall. I must.

Salvation is never close enough. Solace is ever far, and comfort is unbeknownst to my stirring soul. Thus, I keep those I love at a distance, touching their hearts and minds whenever it is safe, but never for too long, nor too much. While this practice has retained much of my valued solitude, it inevitably brings forth akward moments when I am asked to give, and I cannot, or when I am asked to provide, and I am unable. I have learned to live with the labels that this brings, but if only they knew what the corners of my mind hold. If only they knew, then perhaps the existence of my solitary habits wouldn't bring as much resistance, nor cause as much trouble.

Yet my heart ever beats and sounds, and it is difficult my blogger, very difficult not to lose myself within the solitary world that I create. I longingly send out my faith and hope on unfettered wings that I will find another to share with, to care with, and to create with, but for now I remain close to the fall, but unwilling.

Picking your Paths

It seems the last few years (or even the last few weeks) of my life have brought so many changes upon me that sometimes I wonder how I manage to deal with them. Granted, many of the changes have made my life so much richer and fuller, but at the same time so many things have happened that haven't been quite as positive.

I was recently re-reading one of my favorite books, and as usual, a chapter of the book took on a whole new meaning for me. It is one of those dreaded "self-help" books, but this one is different than most. Instead of making me feel bad, and therefore want change in my life, it actually makes me feel empowered - reminds me of the good. (If you have problems with yourself, the book is "When you eat at the refrigerator, pull up a chair".) The book was really written for people who eat too much, but the author says at the beginning that you can exchange almost any problem with her problem for food; that the answers are almost universal. Strangely...she's right. The chapter that particuarly had so much meaning to me this time around was a chapter about the paths you take. It said that no path is right for everyone, and no path will get you to the same destination every time. Some paths work for a while then stop working, and thats alright too. But when the path stops working for you, or stops moving you in the direction you wish to be moving, recognize that it did get you to where you are, and then start looking for the next step.

I guess this really spoke to me because I've come to a fork in my path of life. I am one of those people that on the outside seems very whimsical and "fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants" about how I live my life. And that is very true for some aspects of my life, but not about my career plans. I have planned out every minute of that for years. Now, after college, I'm at that point where I had planned to get the perfect job and then just coast through the rest of life. But now I'm going in a different direction, that I'm not even sure is the right direction some days, but I am sure it isn't the wrong direction. Forward movement is just more comfortable for me than standing still.

I also recently came to realize that sometimes I really don't even know what I want. I have thought for the last couple of years that I was really ready for a serious relationship. Ready for that one guy to come into my life and stay forever. Ready to find love. Ready to have that permanent Valentine's Day date. Then yesterday I found myself breaking up with the guy I had been dating for a little over a month. I really started questioning my reasoning for doing so last night (and as an effect of that found myself getting very little sleep). I thought I was breaking up with him because I didn't feel the spark with him - that he just didn't light my fire. But after questioning it all, I'm not sure that I'm ready to have my fire lit. That maybe I'm not on the path I thought I was, or maybe I was on that path, but I had to leave it because I wasn't ready for the steep walk and rough ride the path had ahead.

It all reminds me of the quote from "Alice in Wonderland" I stole from Josh's away message one day because it just made so much sense to me. Alice comes to a fork in her path and asks the cheshire cat which way to go. The cat then asks her where she is going. When she responds that she doesn't know where she is going, the cat then tells her that it doesn't matter which way she goes if she doesn't know where she is going. I guess it is just something you have to make up as you go along. Roll with the punches, follow your path, then find a new one.

For me, I just have to be moving, making something happen, seeing something new, or doing something different to be happy. I'm starting to realize that. I'm also realizing that maybe I'm not doing anything wrong. Maybe the reason that I'm not reaching the end of the path I'm supposed to be on is that I changed paths somewhere and didn't even know it. Realizing this has helped me open my eyes and see that there are many good things in my life right now, not the things I had planned, but good things nonetheless. Maybe that is a blessing in disquise because not all the paths we plan in our life are for the best. I guess the question of the day is "If I'm not on the path I thought I was on, what path am I on, and where is it taking me?"

Untitled

They were loud. Not the kind of sound that is produced by the clanging of objects, or the kind that is felt when the music volume is too high. They were just loud. The kind of sound that weighs heavy on your skin, pressing in between your pores. The kind of sound that hangs in the air even after the source is gone. They were loud.

It's Monday night and my best friend and I are nesting at our IHOP, pouring over books and notes. It's difficult for me to focus. Difficult to put letters into words, and words into meaning. Some of this stems from my entire lack of motivation. Overwhelming amounts of incomprenhensible work, and yet some of this is the result of being indunated by the season signs.

V-Day nears and everything in the universe screams red hearts and pink roses. Conversation hearts, love notes, and the ever evil pink-hued peeps dance across my vision. I filail and turn the channel of my mind. Back, back. Minutes, hours. The commericial of cheerios wedding strawberries... even a cereal has found solace this valentine's. Cereal. Cereal has found love!? Is this event only ludicrous to me?

Damn cupid and his winged-self. Damn the arrows that streak by into the hearts of others. Damn it all.

I sip my coffee, brown nectar of the gods, and imagine hiding myself away. Away from the upcoming holiday. Away from the ever present, never distant loneliness. Hide away...

Keep This Between You and Me

We put a new product on display a few weeks ago, but it sat lonely without power for many days. One fine afternoon I arrived to see the SleepMachine functioning with perfection. Thus the story begins.

Everyone has secret pleasures, things that they do only in solitude. I like to listen to Mariah Carey when I'm alone. (Yes I am a closet Carey fan). I also like to call up those dating lines that you see on late night television. Listening to another voice looking for love, somehow it comforts me to know that I'm not alone in my search (I should note that I do not pay for this, nor have an ad, I just listen). I have countless other habits, quirks, whatever you will, but my new found secret is the SleepMachine.

While I must confess that I do not own one of these products, mainly due to a horrible incident with a sleep sounds cd I purchased in my dorm days, I am entranced by this product. At the touch of a button I can close my eyes and instantly be transported to the side of a bubbling brook, be alone in the evening on a sandy beach, conjure up a gentle rain or wind, find myself in the middle of a nature filled forest, or be on a train ride to a destination that I will never reach.

What power it gives me! Oh what magnificence to be able to take myself to any of these destinations at my every whim. At night when I close the store by myself, I turn off all of the electronics, the lights, and then my trip begins. I slowly ease the knob on the SleepMachine, sending power rushing through it's body, push a button to bring forth my desire, and close my eyes.

Today ocean mist hit my face, spraying salt water in my eyes and on my tongue. It reminded me of a trip in my youth with my family. I couldn't have been more than ten and my sister was barely able to walk. Both of us were wading in the ocean, our first time to see the vast expanse of water that fills this earth. It was cool upon our bare feet, a sharp contrast to the burning sand. I remember that day like it happened yesterday, but it seems so far away to me now.

So far away.