the breaking point

i need to vent a little bit. i will say right now that this is going to be a self-serving, egomaniacal rant; i am allowing myself to get wrapped up and stressed out by a bunch of things that aren't really worth it. I know all of that, and i don't really care right now. that's not the point.

people are rude, stupid, and ugly.

i have no keys. there's a truck that i let you fucking borrow yesterday to do your little evaluation, and i made it extraordinarily clear that i needed the truck first thing this morning, so please drop the keys off at my desk. leave them in the truck. fucking mail them to me in a sealed envelope. just do what you say you are going to do. i've wasted my entire morning because you are too important to walk all the way over to my desk and put the keys back.

ok. i feel better. hope everyone in your world is courteous, thoughtful, and pleasant to look at. =)

there are songs yet to write

there are songs yet to be finished.
there are songs yet to sing aloud.

don't give up.

never give up.

Current Mood: Fucking Tired

like sands through the hourglass

the only soap opera that i ever watched with any regularity would probably be Days of Our Lives... because that's what my mom watched when I was little. i suppose if you consider Melrose Place a soap opera, I watched that a lot in college. re runs on FX baby. midnight to one o'clock.

right now i feel like i never want to say anything profound again. i say this because sooner or later, you're more than likely to end up looking like a jackass. and i'm in the jackass phase right now. just need to get better at not making everything out to be so profound and life changing. but i suppose that i could just get better at not caring if i look stupid x-many days later. who cares? that's where i was. here's where i am now. and all i should be concerned with is that i'm making progress. that today is better than yesterday. my heart my mind my soul is stronger and better and happier than they were yesterday.

I'm in the photograph

i once wrote a song- well, lyrics really, about a photograph i have. they're some of my favorite, but i could never get music to fit to them right. it's frustrating; waiting for inspiration as I do. i have never crafted a song... they just seem to fall out of me in one big (or small) chunk. and the little pieces of songs I have, that I've carried around with me all these years... i fear that is all they will ever be because of this trend of mine.

but there is something to be said for the fact that in my most prolific time - spring term of my junior year - something happened. and i think it may be starting again. i have that same feeling in my chest. there is a newness in me. one that seems new and old, all at the same time. and all the pollution of the world did not, and will not, stop me from realizing my own renaissance.

the secret of my success

it's like that faint distant memory you have about something - a movie you saw once when you were younger. over the course of the years to follow you only had occasion to recall any thought of the movie maybe a few times. the details get fuzzier and fuzzier as the days go marching on. the world spins and spins and there is no apparent vacuum left behind as it seems to slip away, unnoticed.
but then someone asks you about it: "ever see such-and-such?" and if the timing of the question is right, and the subject of the question is also, you rewind the tape in your head. vague pictures of sitting in front of the tv so many years ago, or a hazy memory of sitting in the theatre watching the movie for the first and only time come streaming into your head. you vocalize your memories to the person who's asking. you might tell a short story or add a quick anecdote.
and maybe the person was just curious, maybe they didn't have much else to say about the subject, and so they turn their attention to something else; another topic of conversation. but just before you switch gears in your head- it occurs to you: that movie has been there in your life all along, at least since the first time you saw it. it has been there, living quietly in your memory, living quietly in your heart for the right moment to be reborn. and there is something about the way it makes you feel to think about it. it wasn't on the surface a month ago. it is fresh. it is both old and new to you at once... and there is comfort in the familiarity, and there is unabashed excitement at the newness. when one of these questions comes along, you can't be anything but thankful.

and i am.

the saint

tonight was another one of those nights.
those nights when i come to the end of my day, exhausted, and look back on how lucky i really am. it was one of those nights when i worked on something that is part of me, but something totally different... think of it as something that is its own entity, but that has been partly shaped by my hand. even though my name will go in the program as lighting designer for this show, and that is some small form of recognition, nights like this one seem completely selfless. i worked to create something bigger and beyond my own self. and until you've done it, you can't possibly understand.
as i ran in the house tonight, after fighting traffic for an hour and being 30 minutes late for my haircut, i was overcome with guilt. my daughter has been alone all day, and forced to while away the hours by herself, bored. so, i took her to work tonight. she happily pranced around the theatre, sniffing new smells, and eating God knows what off the floor of that place. she eagerly watched me climb that ladder time and time again. when we went outside for a moment, she whined at the door, and pushed her paw through the little crack opening we left to keep ourselves from being locked out... so, i decided to let her out; Unleashed if you will.
she stuck around for a few seconds, seemingly staying cautiously near Dad. but, soon she sprinted off into the woods around the Greek theatre, enjoying her new-found freedom in a completely foreign place. she sprinted through the foliage, ducked in and out of the trees- the same trees where i once snuck beautiful kisses from a secret budding love.
she eventually came back, after hearing the search party calling her name, and whistling her favorite tune. but most importantly, she saw, as i hope for every female that enters my life, what it is that i see in that place... she saw where i spend my nights away from her, and *why* i do so. she saw with her own two keen eyes the beauty and soul-food that lives just beneath the surface of an old building, one where the plaster is crumbling, and the faucets have to be held open to wash your hands... and every patron walking through that front door smells the mildew in the carpet- but there is a life force and a fountain of youth living in the air... between the molecules that make up that stale-air smell. it is the heartbeat of Edgar, and Henry, and every other person who has given that building life, even after their earthly death. every bead of sweat that they expelled in their living years, and every bead of sweat and every hockey game that is missed by Obie as he labors there, keeps that building alive.
I only hope that I can in some way contribute. That I can give a performance worthy of keeping that place alive even for a day after I'm gone. It is the child I may never have. It is part of who I am. and every person is ugly in equal measure with their beauty. that place is both. we are all both. our struggle as people is to swing the pendulum to the good, but it will always have that balance. and that is what makes it real... instead of false. and the people who come and go, they will only ever get a glimpse of it. they will never know the fullness and magnitude of the presence in which they stood during that "show they did there once."

psalm 27

thank you.
you are truly one of the great souls in my life.
-s

i've never been too good with secrets, no.

and on the topic of the Real Housewives of Orange County...

is there some ultimate linear scale of human happiness? i mean, Korey Kiepert is married, and most likely has kids. This is the guy who, in 6th grade, wore a t-shirt to school that read: Here Today, Gone to Maui. This is the guy who, as a Junior at Michigan Tech, won the title of Winter Carnival King after being nominated by a might-as-well-be-ficticious student group (because, as we all know, there are more geeks at MTU than anyone else) and their numbers obviously outranked any fraternity.... so, if we follow a linear model of human happiness, at least in America, then I am behind the 8 ball. I am neither married, nor have kids, nor have a lawn I can be proud of. So, in this linear model, what do I have to show for having lived these 31 years on planet Earth? well, nothing. well, not nothing, but not something, either.

i wonder. and I'm sure the Joker would wonder with me. and how I wish I hadn't fucked things up to the point where I couldn't have this type of conversation with another him. I could be at 24 Seconds right now (because the Front closes early, like a bunch of biatches) having this conversation.


i told you I'd get through this album...

God bless the day light
the sugary smell of spring time
remembering when you were mine
and still suburban time
when every Thursday
I'd brave those mountain passes
and you'd skip your early classes
and we'd learn how our bodies worked.
God damn the black night
with all it's foul temptations
I've become what I always hated
when I was with you then.
We looke like giants
in the back of my grey sub-compact
fumbling to make contact
as the others slept inside
and together there, in a shroud of frost, the mountain air
began to pass from every pane of weathered glass
and i held you closer than any one would ever get...

where your initials live

i've discovered the secret to enjoying Bravo original series: alcohol.

the Real Housewives of Orange County becomes a brilliantly edited, brilliantly cast masterpiece after about 1.5 cocktails. i'm talking about a show that i just laughed out loud at, and damn near shed a tear because of.

my computer told me tonight that if you put all of my lines in A Few Good Men next to each other, and made it a public address, it would result in over 50 minutes worth of a speech.

huh.

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scrapes, cuts, bruises, welts, broken bones, fat lip.
scrapes, cuts, bruises, welts, broken bones, fat lip.
scrapes, cuts, bruises, welts, broken bones, fat lip.
scrapes, cuts, bruises, welts, broken bones, fat lip.
scrapes, cuts, bruises, welts, broken bones, fat lip.

i concentrated hard enough to graduate fourth in my class. where's your merit badge for concentration?