Now your lost...

Sometimes something comes along and touches a part of your soul. Opens up a door in the hotel of your head. That's the way I see it at least, a big house, big rooms, little rooms, locked rooms and open rooms. People come and stay and leave, sometimes saying goodbye other times just disappearing into the night. Some rooms get smashed up and broken, and others get organised and cleaned. There are rooms for everyone, rooms for services and rooms for only you. The windows are the parts that gets to me though, windows to the past and future, to places you'd like to go and places you've never been. To impossible places, and impossible ideas. Some views move and change and flow and some are as still and solid as ever.

It’s funny the things that can open doors though, sometimes it’s the right smile at the right time opening back up that door you've had closed ever since she broke your heart, sometimes its seeing your own reflection, seeing how you have changed, or haven't changed. This time it was a song though.

Frank Ocean - Lost. If you haven't listened to it, you should. Just on the off chance it does what it did to me, to you. I can remember the exact moments I heard it the first and second time. The very first time it was played off a mobile phone in my crappy car, the sound system died a while back, and I talked the whole way through it. Looking back I think I was too focussed on the company and the conversation to really listen to it. The second time it hit me, it put an image in my head of a dance, flowing hair and cool calm colours on the walls, low level lights and good feeling in general. Today, it was played up four short stairs, on iPod dock right at the right moment, when I was in the right mood, where it could take me by surprise and lock my thoughts into one smooth fluid direction. Smooth and fluid direction, it doesn't sound quite right but it’s the only thing that fits this. With how my head works, it is an impressive feat for a single song.

Emotions are a fickle thing, because even when they aren't real, if you feel them they exist. This is the basis for waking up in fear from a nightmare or elation from a good dream. It didn't happen, the rational part of your brain is so very aware that it didn't happen but the emotion was there, we still felt what we felt and thought what we thought. I yearn to float in a void of indifference when it comes to emotion.

I am tired, not from lack of sleep but lack of reality. It’s not that I am unhappy, I have a pretty good lot in life, I love in a comfortable little home, I have a job I don't hate and pay that allows me to live some form of the life I’d like to. Good people, some of whom I respect and others that I call my friends. I have a family that cares and best friends whom I love. It’s not that I am unhappy; it is that I cannot stop this constant stream of thoughts, and maybe this is what everyone is like and I am just ill-equipped to deal with it. I berate myself constantly, for not being better, for not being able to fix things, for not being able to control my thoughts and emotions. For not sleeping, not losing weight, for being so angry, or insulting, for not having more friends, or people that think as highly of me as I do them. It’s a constant monologue of personal and insistent abuse, stemming from inside my own head and out of the handful of things that make it stop. That let me have peace and quiet and calm none of them are permanent. This normally works; I normally have this urge to type, and write the noise out of my head. Music can drown it out, and good books can let me escape. Good company can let me float, real conversation can help me focus and physical contact can shut the noise out for hours at a time. But none of it is consistent. Nothing works forever. Books become tiresome, friends leave, words are too hard to type, music causes pain and sex makes me feel guilty. So if I appear disgruntled or confused or on the verge of some form of break down this is why. Because I may not consider myself good enough for a lot of things, friendships and jobs and adventures, but more than anything I don't consider myself good enough for the life I have. This is half of why I am constantly trying to be better. To do better by others and encourage others to do the same. I want to wake up in the morning and feel like I am me, that's okay, and that I can have this without feeling like I need to do more.

Which I suppose brings me to something that's been bugging me ever since it was said. "You are amazing" because I got something that would make someone feel better. I replied with the truth, I'm not amazing, I just try and see things as, if it were me what would I want someone to do for me. She laughed and said so you are Jesus and I jokingly replied with Nope, he's a lot better at fishing then I am. I'm not a saint, I don't even pretend to be, and there are days where I want to punch anyone who needs anything from me. I do what I do to be better, or at least pretend to be better, because helping people feels right and its never wrong if you do it the right way. Girls or guys too, I'll address that right now. There was a moment in English class way back in year 11 when I offered to help a girl with her assignment, and an asshole loudly remarked that I would have helped him too if he had tits. No. I will help anyone I can that really needs it, and I told him the same. Did he walk up and ask me for help? No. He was a dick and expected it to work for him. It’s the same everywhere I have worked. Need Panadol? Or as drink, or your broke and can’t afford lunch, or it’s pissing down rain and you don't have a non-soaked way home. Then I’ll be there if I can be. But don't give me that, you only help chicks bullshit. Because I do the same for people regardless of gender. That's not being a saint either, that's trying to be a better person then what I feel like, which most of the time is scum.

Some days I don't know if everyone else is on a pedestal or I am just a few feet down in a hole my mind has dug looking up. Some days, I’m standing higher and others I’m on even ground but most I’m sitting low. I’m trying to be better at this life business buts it hard work. I get told to look after myself for a while by the people that know and care, but I can’t do that. I just don't work that way. I will always consider other people more important, and not because I am a saint, but because I think I am a sinner.

 

There goes the fear...

So I haven't written here in a while and I was inspired today by new music and the influence of a new friend.

Things have been going well, I have lost weight and anger, I have gained wisdom and lost a few shitty friends. I am slowly becoming better at being a person, and become worse at being an ass. I still stick to what I said though. Good person, but a shitty friend. You have to help people, even people you don't like, or don't want to help. You have to. Its the only way to live, is to just be good. Not all the time, not every day, but as many times as you can manage just be good. Its not a hard concept to live by, in fact I think if I can manage it with my plethora of faults, then more of you can. It is as simply as "do you need a hand with that?" When did we become so self absorbed that we stopped seeing the people around us. I partly blame technology for keeping our eyes and ears down, and mostly blame ourselves. We get far to rapped up in the little things, because they are even more everywhere then they were before LCD screens came along. Watch the world, look out for the little old lady with to many groceries to carry, or the bloke who needs a push start on the corner. Be better, be good, help those who are afraid to ask for it.

Explore. Another thing I worry about it with the younger generations is the need to go out and find the new. No new Xbox, or PlayStation or Ipad. When was the last time you went somewhere new for the sake of seeing it. For the sake of experiencing something real and something different. Looking at the world from the top of a mountain or the very end of the beach to nowhere. Get out of your house, get out of your car, leave your phone behind. Turn the soundtrack to your life up to ten and just go somewhere. It doesn't have to be far, it jut has to be different.

See new things, find new smells, discover parts of yourself you never knew you had simply by going places you have never been. Challenge yourself to get outside, to try something new. Hell, go to a crazy restaurant or a boring museum, push yourself to do the things you didn't think you could. Take one small step and see how many follow the first. Go crazy, go hiking, go jumping out planes and diving underwater. Live. Be alive. Be free.

Always be free.

Reality escapes her...

This is the first post I have written where the title will come after the writing, which shouldn’t be as strange for me as it is but it is so I’m rolling with It.,

I feel like the next time a girl touches my neck am going to have flashbacks from Vietnam. For the first time tonight I watched the breakfast club which came highly recommended from someone who I am supposed to be insanely angry at.

You think people know you, know as much as they can about you, those are the people you trust the most, the people you let in, and not the ones you tell things to, I mean the ones who you don’t have to tell, they just kind of know. Those connections scare the shit out of me; I suppose am scared of who I am more than I should be but maybe not. Maybe if I was more honest, if I had less lies to justify my thoughts and processes then maybe id understand me better but I don’t. I am so angry, so very very angry with the way things have turned out, I say I saw it coming but at the end there things changed so much and my ideas of what would happened flipped, but I was still wrong. And I am not okay with that. Job I hate to be wrong like everyone else on the planet but this is more, I am so tired of giving out advice of telling people things and explaining things that I have no idea how I know I just know.

At what point does this stuff start to come back. When do I get to start making right choices, not just the ones that feel right? I'm not tired of being hurt, am 20 I have so much more of that to come but a few months or years of happiness would make sifting through that sea of shit so much easier. Happy memories can keep you alive.

I tell a tale and spin a yarn but no one really knows the whole story, Hell I can’t tell anyone the whole story and they wouldn’t believe me if I did. So what am I supposed to do? So much is happening while the world stands still and nothing happens at all. Tonight I am losing my mind, am not hurting now that I started typing and maybe that’s why am doing this so I don’t have to let it swill in my head and all because I saw some girl on a movie kiss some guys neck and it brought everything to the front of my head and I couldn’t ignore it, in half a second my walls came crashing down and the inside of my head was naked to the world. There was a time not so long ago when I pulled those walls down myself and I wasn’t afraid, but now? I have to build that confidence back, do we all lie to protect ourselves? I know so many people would claim they don’t, that they don’t care what others think and they do what they want but that’s bullshit, there are very few people alive who get negative feedback about every aspect of themselves. You wear your hair up and the chick that makes your coffee smiles at you just that little bit longer, or that low cut dress that distracts the hell out of the fruit and veg guy at franklins. We are all attention seeking assholes dying for everyone else’s approval. And yet no one’s approval, because we don’t are. Well fi you didn’t care you would be you. There would be no oh I can’t say that and no I should wear this today. I spend five minutes deciding which of my beat up old work shirts am going to wear, good days I wear jeans okay days I wear shorts. If I know am going to have to smash out the work it’s always shorts, they are easier. Why should it matter? Why should it fucking matter.

Do you see? Does anyone fucking see? This is what’s happening in my head every second of every day. This fucking. Insanity. All of the time, I can’t turn it off. I can’t make my head fucking quiet ever. Jesus this is scaring me. I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen to me if this doesn’t shut up., if this doesn’t turn off and just let me have my peace back. Let me find a way to shut all the doors and windows and just sit in silence.

AND WHY. Why can’t it turn off, why can’t it just stop because I am not comfortable in my own damn shoes. With people, with anyone, there are so few people who could shut all this up and all of them managed to ruin it, they left or cheated or lied or ran as soon as I let my mind run free. Second place, every time. Every fucking time and people wonders why am unconfident, have people leave you for someone else or somewhere else or something else enough times and you start to question everything and that was bad enough before all that shit entered my world.

I get the look, I know that look, that’s the you are pathetic look. No am not, I don’t blame women and relationships for all of my problems. am not that much of an ass, or that unrealistic if you eat peanuts and swell up and die you don’t blame the peanuts you blame your allergies. If it happens time and time again it must be something about me which is just another confidence crushing step towards hermitdom. BUT I digress it isn’t all me either because if it was I may get bad. Worse, worse than Brisbane, Brisbane it became an option fi that was the truth... it may become something I attempt. I don’t like to think I could be that selfish but I have my moments.

Anger issues. That my dad calls bullshit, it’s just me not dealing with things. He not entirely wrong, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I work and live to a standard, not a hard standard but a decent one. Why others can’t do the same am not sure, I’m not asking everyone to be a saint, but if you come to work... do your job. It is that simple. don’t do the minimum, don’t do the maximum even, just find a happy medium where you don’t force anyone else to do your work for you. AND on occasion when someone else is flat fucking out, help, just a little. Prove you have a soul and that you’re not just a giant cunt on legs. WORK. Like for a living see?

But back to that hate filled fuck that sits just behind my eyes, and sleeps in my chest. I don’t wish I scared people, but I wish they understood how scared I am. I have never really snapped, never really lost it, people think that i punch things and that’s me losing it... no no. no. no. no. no. no. that is me keeping it under control. When I sweep my monitor off my desk, smash my phone throw stock across the room, break someones fucking arm. That’s me losing it, in half a second I see all that happening in my head and I push it away. I come so close. The day I sat there and cried and cried was the worst. I don’t remember who it was that came and told me I was going to be okay, maybe Elle. Maybe. She was worried because I was sad; I was scared because I was angry. I came so close, so close to losing it. To flipping the fuck out. To dropping all ties with humanity and turning into something else. If people got all that, really under stood it, they would be scared but no. they see the semi acceptable looking kid who’s angry all the time and thinks he works hard.

And then, then there are the days where I wake up okay and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. I’m okay, with all this going on, you wake up okay? With how you felt last night or ten minutes ago or half a moment ago. And now you feel okay? Now everything you can deal with. Bipolar. No. bullshit. This is something else. If this was that generic then I wouldn’t feel so fucking alone. I wouldn’t be tearing myself apart right now and I would wake up wondering why I wrote all this here. My knightly notebook doesn’t work anymore, that is all one topic that I can’t stay away from if I lay hands on it, same with the typewriter or anything really written down with pen and paper. So I return here with my mountain of issues and things to explode from my mind. And I know this writing is not all that crash hot but it’s not for that tonight it’s not to impress you all with my fancy word work. It’s to stop me from losing to control. It’s so that I can wake up tomorrow and not explode at work. I can be okay and do the momentous amount of work that needs doing. I didn’t know where this was going to end but I think it’s coming to a close now. And I have a title, just so I know it will be read.

Goodnight friends.

The Man Who Can't Be Moved...

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be.

It's a funny day and one hell of a week. The ups and downs got scary this time, I considered things darker than I ever have before and my rage nearly got away from me. Nearly.

I often wonder if people could see how angry I really get if they would be afraid of me. I do get angry and annoyed often, far too often, but people take it as a joke, like I'm some kid who will never really do anything. I worry about the day someone pushes it too far. Like that chapter in the Perks of Being a Wallflower where Charlie snaps and hurts those three blokes. God that frightens me. I worry about really putting the hurt into someone, I have so many triggers nowadays, and god help anyone who brings up the shit I'm going through now.

I wonder about my age and my maturity a lot to, how I'm older than I am and the right age at the same time. I have my moments of infancy, where I turn back into this pathetic kid who panics and freaks out and some situations have a direct line to that kid. Those moments that remind me of all the pain I have been through and just terrify me to the roots of my being. Things that take me back to being sixteen and sitting in the backyard with the wire, and all the pain I felt then and how much everything here and now is worse. So much worse, but at the same time the memories are so much better.

I have this constant monologue of things running through my head. Jobs to be done, things to buy, how I look, how hard I'm working, what I really need to be doing, but every now and then something always floats in and interrupts the flow of traffic. Sometimes bad, sometimes worse. It can be a simple fender bender, but sometimes it’s a seven car pileup and I can hear the screaming from miles away. It confuses me, how those tiny little thoughts, that one fly in the ointment can destroy my mood, can take me from somewhere okay to somewhere disastrously bad. I'm trying to get a handle on it, with my writing and talking to people and focussing on what I can change, and what I can do and its very slowly becoming easier but some days it is just as hard as the first and those are the days I fear the most.

Are giving up and moving on the same thing? Is one cowardly and the other smart; is one a choice and the other a failure? My head tells me one is not an option and the other one is cowardly. I don’t know how to explain that but I think it’s all this knight stuff, it’s all about being worth it and showing others they are. If giving in means giving up should I do so? Or should I sit and wait with the arrow in my knee and find out what could have happened? It’s an eternal struggle up there in my head, for control, for the right decision, go for what you want! It’s wrong of you to try and make this happen! Why are you doing this to yourself!

To be happy? To be free? From anger? From depression? From all this noise? Such long periods of quiet that I haven’t had since everything changed. A glance from a thousand miles away, a sound heard around the world and everything stops. Everything goes dark and my head is peaceful again. I miss that the most. How I could be pulled back from the brink of it all with a piece of this and a flash of that.

How my world could change so suddenly for better or for worse, I guess I will have to wait and see. I guess I will have to spend some time as the man who can’t be moved.

You and that fucking colour blue...

I have never been much of one for art and the like and never considered myself particularly talented when it comes to it , but i do enjoy turning a phrase or two and have been known to scribble down the odd note of brilliance.

I know that red in all its glory is supposed to represent passion and love and anger and a few other things but to me, it doesn't really do love justice. Its bright and vibrant and you can see it from a long way off but it doesn't seem.. big enough. It doesn't really seem to encompass love. I think that's why i see it as blue. Not sadness, not the colour of the ocean, or eyes or anything remotely that cheesy, but infinity. Those days where the sky is clear, and not just clear but radiant, where it hurts just a little to look up. Science will tell you that's just the light hurting your eyes but i don't think so. I think that's our brain trying to register just how much is up there, and exactly what all that means to us. That's where love sits with me. Its not some bright little colour in the corner of my mind, it is infinity, it is a never ending nothingness that means everything to us. It is border less, and omnipotent, when you find the sky you aren't looking into space, really you are looking into everything, a world of possibilities, of a billion places to go, and a million emotions to feel. So no, I don't think red should be the colour of love. I think it should be the never ending sea of blue i feel in my chest each time my eyes find yours.

That may not have started as well as i would have liked but it damn sure finished the way i wanted it to. I'm sorry its been so long, but I'm sure soon enough you will be hearing more from me. Goodnight all, until the next time.

The man who fell in love with the sky...

It was as if he had been singled out in the world, alone as he could be, working out in the fields. A single dark cloud hanging in the sky, thunder before the flash like a voice calling out from above, out to him as he looked up. Light seemingly bursting from within him as a single finger of lightning extended from the heavens all the way down to his head, burning with an undeniable fire. A thousand pounds of pressure and passion, forced into his body and back out again. When he woke up, he knew things were different, changed in an almost imperceptible way; there was no noise, not a wisp of wind in the sky just a deep blue field of endless beauty. An open book of passion and anger, joy and mischief, all lying above him in the sky, a lover whose only boundary was the horizon. That was when he knew he had fallen, not from some great height, or for some amazing woman, but for the infinite sky. And who could refuse a man who could touch such a sky? And that was when it began.

The tower was simple at first, a base of earth and mud, building higher with stick and stone, wood and steel, and as his tower grew so did the belief that this was a different kind of love, not merely something to be had but something to be earned. That was when the tower began to change, no longer a tool for the climb but a testament to his own worth, his devotion to the sky and all she had to offer, his character built into the very bones of the structure.

Each night he would crawl back to the top and watch the sky sleep and the stars come alive, listening to the whispers of her dreams as he slept.  Each night the was process repeated and months would pass in this fashion, the man becoming ragged and torn, his will never breaking, his strength never failing as he found himself happy to commit his very soul into the building of his tower.  So higher he built and higher he climbed, and the tower grew thinner and thinner until there was only enough room for one man to stand and then he wept. He knew he has succeeded, looking down onto the clouds below and up into the ever continuing sky. He wept in happiness and accomplishment, believing himself to be higher than the very world and finally alone with his lady of the sky. But as he explored his new horizons he noticed the shadow, falling across himself and the smile slid from his face as he saw the mountain, looming even higher than he was and on the mountain stood an opposite reflection of a man. A man on the mountain.

The first words flew across the chasm of space as if eagerly awaiting a reply. “What are you doing so far above the clouds my new friend?” asked the man of the mountain
“Proving my worth and my love to the sky” the tower man replied
“But I was here first and her beauty belongs to me, your tower will not impress her in the shadow of my mountain, and you have built yourself no ladder or stairs, no safe way down”
“My mountain climbing friend, if she chooses to reject me then there was never going to be a safe way down, and if she does knock me down then I shall fall smiling in the knowledge I did all I could and that in itself will keep me from death”
“then why not find a mountain of your own to climb?”
“Because although the effort mighty, it was not enough for me to walk up the path another man made. This building, my tower, will prove far greater worth than any climb. You have a way down, a way out, a man should not have a way out of love, and if he does then it is not love to him at all.”
“We shall see my young friend, my mountain has withstood many years of her wrath, can your measly tower stand the test?”
“We shall see indeed,”

So the man stood atop the tower, open and alone, waiting for the test to come. An unmoving epic of stillness as the sky exploded around him, wind howled, ripping through the air, lightning arced and the thunder deafened him, hail pelted his body and all the while he stood resilient. Knowing that she was worth it, that standing in the heart of the storm was nothing compared to the worth of her love. He laughed then, at the beauty of it all, in trying to prove himself to her, he had earned respect of himself, he had been tested and he had come through worthy for her love and his own.

And through the happiness and laughter he found a small sadness as he realised once the sky cleared and the clouds parted, the sun would rise slowly in the distance, and the first light of the morning sky would always touch the mountain first. So the man smiled and waved at the mountain screaming over the distance “I passed. I am worth everything she has to give, but this day and for many more she will only have eyes for you, so I will leave you be atop your mountain and when she tires of you she only has to boom her thunder in the skies and I will be come running” and with a final bow and a mischievous grin the man stepped off his tower and flew down into the abyss, smiling all the way.


As a footnote I will say a few things, firstly I hate the start, I cannot start things, so I did kind of just jump in, secondly yes its metaphorical for things that have happened to me and some that haven't, but it is also a collaboration of events in my life not just the effects of one or two people. Thirdly it is the first thing I have sat down and written that wasn't just eight lines apart from my blog in a long long long time.

I hope you liked it, but in the end I do, and thats all that matters to me.

Aint no sunshine in technology, no holiness in god...

I have seen so much, been so far and met so many. I find memories of travel sometimes fleeting, memories of places often lost and memories of people eagerly awaiting my thoughts.

Tonight i sat down at Coogee beach at a spot that shouldn't mean a thing but does, watching the water flow in and out, listening to whatever was playing through my phone and thinking a bit about everything. Like how the relevance of time has changed since the creation of the internet. Trends are no longer a year long thing; it takes half a second for someone to upload an idea that will start a riot of change.

I think about people a lot. That sounds exceptionally stupid but to me it isn't, you see my Dad's army. So I've moved around my whole life, I find a life, a house, a school (now a job); I stay for a few years and then move on. So I have left so many places and faces behind. So many people who I will never see again, whose features I can barely remember. I can barely name a dozen people I know I will never forget, and yet none of them have grown into my life. None of them have slowly found their way into the walkways of my infinitely awesome mind; they have all crashed in, with an ungrateful tumble and a high pitched scream. People who you need only know for a moment to feel like you have known them for lifetime.

I have been here a million times and yet each time I am here it feels new and alone and terrifying. Stuck in a place where they is no moving forward, only falling backwards, where no matter how hard you push, try, or work at it nothing will change without a stroke of bad luck and some exceptionally lucky charms. Sometimes I wish I was an emo kid so I could express myself with horrible photos of a man walking alone down a dark street. I cannot have what I want, but is it better to take what you can and live completely in those moments or to take nothing at all and try and forget?

This past week has been good, I started the New Year with the following of hobbits, I found my confidence hiding at the bottom of my sock drawer, quivering in anticipation and huddled up next to my charm. Both are happily back inside my head and shaking things up just as they should.

I feel sorry for the people I work with as all they get to see is an angry kid who doesn't deal with his head well at all. I am not self-important or arrogant for that matter but I am so much more than what you see there. Visit me on the days I am happy, or the day when I wake up and feel worth, see the bloke who is willing to stop and talk to the old timer just because he knows they are lonely, or the guy that will go out of his way to make others happy just because it’s the right thing to do. Give me time to work my head around my issues and my jobs issues and give me the opportunity to be something else then entirely pissed off.

That is all for tonight, I'm going back to Doctor Who and my happy awesome thoughts.

Goodnight, sleep well and sweet dreams.