Live the Life Bob Ross Would Want to Paint

Click the pic for "Blank Space" by the wonderful T Swift.

The world is a blank slate and we've all got pencils.

Some let theirs get dull. Some keep theirs sharp. But there's more to this life than dark sketches and negative space. There's more out there than merely variations of eraser skids and gray.

There's colour. There's texture. There's shadow, depth - and everything has a reflection. Our recollection of what beauty looks like can be transposed onto the canvas of our futures. 

What do we value? What hues look best to you? Is it limelight, moonlight or natural light? Is it infrared, incandescent or sunshine?

Paint a picture. Create an album. See the world that you want to see. It's beautiful out there. Don't let the hazy daze and blank phase get in the way of your crazy ways. Each stroke of your imagination, set to color, is a breath of fresh air.

And I want to breathe it in.

I long to live in it. Basque in the glory of the faded, but still vibrant saturation that you bring to the coloring table. We get to be children again, but we don't have to paint between the lines. We can still dance, but now we know how to keep time. And align ourselves with the masses or break off and do our own thing. Place your hand in mine and let the music begin.

We've changed pace. From artistic space to an even more creativity-harboring place. I hope you can relate. I hope you don't act your age. I pray and beg and plead that you still hold onto that youthful embrace.

Because what do we lose as the years pass us by? Not wonder, nor life, but only time. With a focus on the future and an eye on tomorrow, we forget how to live and forget how to grow. There's money in our pockets and jewelry on our fingers, but what lingers is the longing for an existence when we were merely beginners.

I know that we're happy. I know we're complacent. I know we both complain, but our lives are halfway decent. But they can be better. They can be so much more. With an inkling toward adventure we can continue to explore.

The world is ours. We've been told that since we were kids. Each brush stroke we have made has brought us to this very portrait in which we live. But what can make it better? What happy accidents can be made? What mistakes can we partake in that help us grow along the way?

Follow your hand and see where your pencil takes you. Does it lead you to the paper or toward something new? Don't be afraid to lift the lead up, don't fear falling in Love. You have the basic foundations and features drawn, now it's time to paint an endless skyline above.

I can be a constellation in your horizon. And you can be my mesmerizing, ever-consistent sunrise. Either way we end up painting the portrait of our lives, all will look just right.

There's no wrong way to do this, no pattern to follow or fail. And when my painting is done, it will be labeled "not for sale."

Because when you put your all into something, every last effort is left behind. And as my vision starts to go, I'll always remember the time. The hours wasted away, working with variations and adding something new. But most of all, I'll never forget the time I spent painting this masterpiece with you.

The Sunday Weirds: Commuter Contemplation

I have an insatiable wanderlust. I can't stay in one spot for too long or I get restless and upset.

In fact, throughout the past eight months, staying home for an entire weekend has been a foreign and scary concept. Had I not had a complete night out planned in the great 614, I would travel upwards of 125 miles – in any direction – just to be around a large group of people.

While this statistic thoroughly backs up my theory of me being an extrovert, I'm finding that the time spent driving home on Sunday afternoons is just as valuable as the entire weekend spent interacting, communicating and distracting myself from the reality that I concentrate on so much.

My most recent purchase for the drive home was the soundtrack to "Thirteen." If you haven't watched it, you've failed your inner angsty teenager. Get on that!

I dwell on the fact that I have the dreaded two-hour drive ahead of me. I do all in my power to make it comfortable and convenient. I switch out of my plaid button down and skinny jeans for a t-shirt and gym shorts. I pop in a new CD to create new memories to or an old one to reminisce.

But after a few miles in, I start to think.

And I start to contemplate. I start to envision. I think about what I just did and wonder if it's making me truly happy or not.

The drive home suddenly shifts from this concrete, terrible inconvenience to a sort of life planning session with the occasional existential breakdown and shedding of tears.

I take time out to think about Loved ones and Loves lost. I think about who I want to keep in my life and who deserves a little less energy. Who is toxic and who is treasure? 

If you're reading this, you've probably received a really nice text message, phone call or Snapchat from me as a result of this Sunday drive.

I look at the upcoming work week. How can I improve? In what ways can I make this business more money and how can I feel even more satisfied with my career? What are the next moves? I break out of my party hard mentality and see myself as a professional with a vision for the future.

I think of the garbage I put in my body the weekend preceding. Granted, I never really go over the top, but it gives me the motivation to eat and drink healthier for the upcoming week. My workout regimen gets a thorough inspection as I think of how I can make the most of that time.

The best long drives home result in songs and poems. Inspiration can come out of nowhere. Either a passing thought or a misheard lyric heard while scanning through local radio stations that barely come in can trigger something beautiful. Against my better judgment, I type behind the wheel. After 100 or so miles, I have something I didn't have before and I feel much more fulfilled.

I've heard this time of contemplation and concentration referred to as “The Sunday Weirds,” which is quite fitting. It's a step back from reality - actually both realities you encounter on a weekly basis. It's a sense of meditation brought forth by staring at the same lines in the center of road that you've seen countless times. I definitely feel weird.

Since I was a youngin, I recall experiencing this sort of numbness phenomenon on Sunday nights. School was the next day. I was stuck with family. Many times, I was in the car, on long drives with them. Only fitting that the feeling is still with me today.

The next time you have a seemingly infinite drive ahead of you, make the most of it. If you can't get a passenger to ride shotgun and talk about life, become your own passenger. When you get out of your car, do so with a sense of purpose. You're back home and you're going to do something great this week. 

And you're going to live.

You're going to transcend normalcy, be productive, end the week right and drive back once again; this time, as a better, more complete human being.

Is Midnight Yesterday or Today?

They say your teenage years are the most despairing and confusing times of your life, but I beg to differ - this liminal post-graduation/settling into a career phase has been a toughy.

I must confess, within this past year, I practically existed as a full-time professional and a part-time 5th year senior in college. I've worked 40-plus hour weeks, worked out four days a week and still found time to go crazy on the weekends.

It's time to let go of some things.

But I'm starting to notice the awkwardness that comes with being 23. Am I supposed to slow down? Am I supposed to start thinking about marriage? What age am I supposed to have kids? Do I even want kids? Will I ever have to stop?

I saw a meme today (and a thousand times before) that said "I'm at the point in my life where half my friends are getting married and having kids, while the others are too drunk to find their phones." As much as I hate regurgitated Internet posts, that one still hits home. I watch Snapchat stories and see people in their 20s doing absolutely nothing with their lives, granted that could simply be the facets they want to share with the community, but still. It's depressing.

I'm having fun, yes, but the party seems to be dying down; at least the habitual party scene. Friends are settling, while I'm still ready to go.

It sucks being the last one awake.

It sucks hearing "no" after "YOLO" was the mantra to live by. For four years (and little of a fifth), I lived without boundaries, barriers or curfews, but now I have to limit what I do, if not for me, then for my friends. They've got their own lives. They have to be up at 8 a.m. for work on the weekend while I lay on a couch, shaking off the night before, remembering the life I used to have.

My body has been giving me signals that it's either time to grow up or I've simply stop going so hard. I can't sleep past 8:30 a.m. on the weekends. The day after recovery time has increased. I panic about projects for work at 1 a.m. on a Friday night.

I've talked about my "Yes Man" phase and philosophy that gave me the greatest changes in my life, but now I'm heading into a second round of changes. Unfortunately, I don't know what those are yet. I don't have a movie to guide me this time. It will likely entail a stronger focus on fitness, new cultural adventures, more creative aspirations and a decline in travel time. (It's worth noting that for the past three or four months I haven't stayed within the same 100-mile radius for more than five days.)

I don't want to become that quintessential frat boy who can't let go of his glory days. I saw too many 29-year old men trying to party like they were 21 this weekend and it was just embarrassing. However, I don't plan on stopping my antics with my friends. That will never stop. Some of our destruction could be construed as creativity.

And that's what's lacking in my life right now. Creativity. My emotions are manifesting as actions and that doesn't make me happy. I need to go back to capturing my anger/sadness/frustration/jealousy/confusion into something constructive, maybe a song that will last forever and not a dramatic text or tweet that lasts but a second and makes me look like a jackass.

Too young to say no; too arrogant to hear it either.

This is growing up. I've come along way from the angst-filled, drama queen everyone came to know and hate my freshman year. But it's time to cut the passive-aggressive behavior, be more direct and, dare I say it, settle down - not in the sense that I have to stop having fun, but in the sense that I have to concentrate my mind on the hierarchy of things that actually matter.

I'm in need of a life personnel change. I've built a beautiful friend group, but there are some characters that cause more chaos than they do good. There is a never ending fountain of people in this world, why settle on someone who doesn't embody the characteristics you wish to surround yourself with? Why try and make someone appreciate you when they forget who you are a week later? Be with the people who appreciated you completely.

This is my quarter-life crisis

This is me fearing alone time on a weekend. This is me fearing that it was all a dream. This is me fearing letting go of something I built part of my pride upon.

Or maybe this is me devoting my time to becoming a more well-rounded person. Or me falling in Love with new conversations with wonderful people opposed to trying to hold onto the past. Or me preserving and chiseling my body and my name into something that will last a longer time.

Here's to walking through the doorway between two rooms - one full of memories, bad blood and questionable decisions - and into a new room - full of new melodies, deeper conversations and questionable decisions.

Never Had A Home

It's worth noting that this isn't exactly how I feel. The majority of it is just words. I wrote it while sitting at my desk, freezing. So, to set the mood right, get as cold as you can (to the point of shivering) and read through, but whisper the italic parts to yourself.

Never Had A Home
Nothing left to say, no words left to believe;
It's hard to have a dream when you cannot fall asleep.
The lights don't know my thoughts, the streets can't feel my pain,
These strangers couldn't care less to ever learn my name.

A new edge of the world, a fresh new frontier.
Staring down my father's gun, I think I like the view from here.
Darkened by my thoughts, motivated by my spirit,
I'd tell my sob story again but no one wants to hear it.

I'm a nuisance, I'm pathetic.
I'm beaten down by the world because I let it.
Pre-cursing thoughts are the mist;
God, I hope the lightning missed.

I could feel it through my skull, a bullet for it all,
Thunder in my sky littering thoughts against the wall.
I'm not myself; no I'm someone else,
A person that I hate, numbness I've never felt.

There's no light behind these eyes, a handful of people I despise.
Just a shallow human shell with a half smile disguise.
An ego-centric sickness, as God as my witness,
I would steal to take the "lie" from my life.

A ring of mistrust, three years of misdeeds,
You would think you're crazy if you ever thought like me.
Back and forth with the mind games, just want to you feel the same way;
Steering everything I do just to drive you insane.

A thousand thoughts a minute, half of them with her in it.
The other 50 percent, the world I've left unfinished.
A family left abandoned; three hearts left unmended.
You wonder why I can't trust, it was the way my life was handed.

Down through different people, all with different motives,
By the time I was 10 my sense of belonging was so corroded.
I felt a sense of pride, knowing I made a life on my own,
Only to find that I never had a home.

All I had were a few good times, at the expense of all the others,
I lost my sense of empathy and I lost God damn my mother.
Drink just to feel numb, unfaithfully fuck to feel alive;
Taking a lot more than I could ever need just to survive.

Another bottle down, another broken heart.
What's destroying a relationship when I never cared from the start?
I'm a monster in my own mind, a demon by design.
I would burn every bridge around me if it would keep me warm tonight.

I'm dramatic, I'm an addict;
Not to pills, but to substance.
Nothing you can buy, nothing you can steal,
But something free to feel.
Fueled by the desire to feel Loved, a chance just to belong,
I know I look alright, but that assumption is wrong.

Nothing left to say, no words left to believe;
It's hard to have a dream when you cannot fall asleep.
Just want to know I caused a wave, know I sparked a fire.
Because sending chills down your spine is what keeps me inspired.

Neglect Heals All Wounds

You know that feeling you get where you're absolutely sick to your stomach when you think of someone? Just the image of their face in your mind makes you want to throw up.

But the problem is ... it's nothing they did. It's what you did to them. It's how you mistreated them when you thought they would be there forever. And now they're gone. And you loathe them, but in reality, you hate yourself but they act as a placeholder, the manifestation of your undeniable and relentless guilt. It's easier to hate someone you don't have to see everyday than it is to hate the person you see in the mirror.

Time for my winter anthem.

 Well, it's starting to get cold outside and the days are growing shorter. The world is at a loss for colour. I guess it's about time I pretend to be socially awkward and use the Internet to comfort myself. Hang in there with me. My almost-impossibly positive view of the world will be back soon. My life is fantastic. I just want to feel passionate for a moment.

I'm a man of extremes. If you know me, it's easy to see. The way I workout. The things I eat and drink. The music I listen to. Hell, the way walk upstairs could be construed as extreme. So, it's no surprise that my interpersonal fights are crazy and my reconciliations are just as ridiculous.

I live for passion. Not just romantic, either. I need it in many different realms. I've even contemplated asking my girlfriend to pick a fight with me about something so I could say I'm sorry in beautiful ways. I need those ups and downs. Call it me being a sociopath. Blame it on my past. It's what I thrive on.

But there are certain situations in which extremes don't work, and I've found myself in one. Everything we do is a lesson, but much like school, you may not learn what you were supposed to until the final exam is over.

Right now, I'm taking the test and I don't know the answer. In fact, the way I deal with it is to turn the paper over, leave it blank and act as if though it never existed. 

However, I've learned something along the way.

We need to tell the people we Love that we Love them. It's so simple. So easy and we overlook it. It's so overlooked that people may respond in an awkward manner. Don't let it be awkward. You care about someone deeply. You have their back. You're hurt if they're hurt. You Love them.

I Love you.

You never know when that simple phrase will hit a person. Or when that phrase will miss a person. There's a friend out there right now that I care for deeply, but I can't say I Love them. I can't. I can't bear the shame for how I've treated them. My actions have reflected something other than Love. My actions were a lie. They were a mistake.

Would I take it back? No. Because it's caused me to learn. 

While I'll more than likely fail this exam, I've learned for next time. I've reached out to a few people already. People I Love. People who should hear it. Sometimes it's hard to separate Love from romance, but the two can be mutually exclusive.

Because you're no longer here with me, I have to say that I Love you. My actions didn't reflect Love, but my intentions did. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to ignore you. I never meant to have you leave my life. My apologies for my extreme behavior. It's just who I am and I'm working on it. 

Nothing would be better than speaking these words to someone you lost. Maybe after a few drinks so you can really let your emotions loose. So you can say what you truly want without shame. Face-to-face. Not behind a cell phone or a laptop. Not in a letter. Through true-to-life words. Spoken on your bedroom floor behind closed doors.

Words that can bring a tear of both pain and happiness at the same time.  

Go out and tell someone you Love them. For all those who lost their chance. 

I Love you, friend. 

 <3

Nobody Gives You a Chance; You've Got to Take Them

At the end of May 2013, I had no idea what my life would come to be. For the first time in my life, I did not have a concrete plan.
I graduated. I had a temporary part-time position lined up at the end of summer, but that was about it. That job was in Columbus and my Bowling Green lease was up at the end of May, so I had two options: head home to Fostoria and possibly ditch my chances of getting out or blindly go south to Columbus and pray for the best.

I chose the latter.

June 1, I packed my car with the few things that I needed. I had taken to Craigslist to find a roommate and I found three suitable ones. My whole Craigslist experience will wait for another blog; just know that some of the options were terrifying.

On my way down. On my own.

At this time, I had nothing but emotional support. Honestly, all I realistically need is 99 percent emotional help, but that 1 percent of material safety helps me a lot. I went to the first two apartments and they were awful and far out of my price range and away from where I would be working temporarily.

The final apartment was leased by a Godsend named Maggie. The circumstances were perfect and I took the plunge. I was ready to sign, but they wanted to make sure I wasn't a complete sociopath; rightfully so.

I slept on the floor of a friend's house that night. Terrified. What was my life to become? I recall shaking from nervousness. I had every cent counted up in my head that I had to my name. I knew I had to get a job immediately. I couldn't wait around.

I applied for a cashier position at Kroger at 9 p.m. and was offered the job 12 hours later. I was then alerted that I could move into the apartment soon. I'll forever be jaded because, in my first two nights in a big city, I found a job and an apartment. (My time at Kroger, a service job, will be a blog for a later date as well.)

However, I had to go through the orientation process at the new-found job and I had to get settled into the apartment. I layed there, on the floor, scared again. I needed to do something productive and we lacked Internet, so I went for a run.

Hear what drove me.

I plugged into Bring Me The Horizon's new album and just ran. And ran. It was 90+ degrees and I was in all black, but I just kept running. In my head, I was panicking. Where am I going to end up? I have nothing planned. I'm so scared and I know no one down here. In four months, will I be screwed? My unknown running path reflective of my life.

I found myself back home and created a plan. A list. On it were five goals. Get a full-time job. Save $10k. Read a book. Find a Columbus best friend. Get down to 160 lbs.

Well, I've completed 4/5 of those goals already, and let's just say I'm still reading the book.

I was offered full-time at the same job I interned with and worked with over summer. I am eternally grateful for the opportunity and I am sure that I will flourish, personally and professionally. (A blog about job openness is sure to follow at some point.)

What I'll miss the most from the old place.

After some personal events, I decided to move in with my wonderful girlfriend, Sarah, in a two bedroom place on the other side of Columbus.

But before I moved out of my first Columbus apartment, I went for one final run, with BMTH's Sempiternal in my ears once again.

My mind was calm. I knew what I was doing. There was a plan - a great one! I'm owning life. I took a chance and it paid off. Three-four months earlier,  I was shaking with fear and anxiety, but now, I was calm. Striding along the exact path I ran previously when I had more doubts than prayers.

Thank you to everyone who has taken a chance on me. I know I'm worth it and I'm so thankful you thought I was as well.

Tipping: Bad for Cows, Good for ... Just About Everyone

When I go out to eat, or I'm at a bar, or I take a cab ride, I always remember to tip.

However, how much should I tip at these places? Should I tip on every drink I purchase? What if the cabbie almost drove me into oblivion at 93 mph? If I'm tipping a terrible waiter out of sympathy, shouldn't I tip the charismatic cashier/bagger duo who made my trip to Kroger something to remember?

These are all questions that circulate my mind before and after I go out.

Recently, Drew Brees ran into this sort of issue as well when he tipped $3 on a takeout meal. People ripped on him for being a greedy bastard, but I feel he would have been justified in not tipping at all. Think about it: how often do you tip someone who hands you your take out food? Who does that money even go to? The chefs prepared it and bagged it ... this person was simply handing it over. In my honest opinion, they deserved no tip in this transaction.

But then, I start to think about the people we don't tip for doing a phenomenal job. Think about the mail carriers who wander the streets no matter the temperature or condition just to get you your bills. Think about the baggers at grocery stores who not only bag your stuff, but also clean the bathrooms, carry in loads of carts and deal with any mess in the store.

The list of tip-worthy occupations could go on forever. There are people out there whose jobs go unnoticed and unappreciated. We just sort of expect it to happen and for them to do it with a smile on their face.

(A great list for rules and whatnot can be found here: http://www.getrichslowly.org/blog/2006/10/12/basic-tips-on-tipping-how-much-and-to-whom/)

If you're ever at home, ask the mail carrier if they want a drink of something opened, as to assure you're not poisoning them. Or, if you ever feel inclined, tip the cashier who sold you the $250 winning lottery ticket. It will make there day.

Now, back to people whose income is supplemented by tips; the people making under minimum wage.

Whenever I go out (the people always shout) to eat, I tell myself I will tip at least $2.50 no matter the final price. If it cost $1, they're getting $2.50. If the bill is higher, I keep a rule of thumb to make it at least 17.5%.

If you've got a good paying job and you're contemplating on a $4 or $5 tip, shame on you. Take that extra dollar out and give it to someone who needs it more than you. The amount they appreciate it will be greater than how much you miss it.

Probably a lot more going on in his life than just waiting tables.

On one occasion, I was out with a group of friends at a Mexican restaurant and the waiter was having a devil of a time. He dropped a water. Forgot a side. Didn't refill the free chips. You could tell on his face that he was roughing it that day. My friends banded together and decided to boycott tipping this dude. They couldn't empathize with his struggle.

Luckily, I had a friend sitting next to me who thought the same way as I, and we decided to pool our money to cover the table's tip and then an extra $5 or so. We wrote a note that said: We all have off days. Keep your head up." I hope that message found him well.

When it comes to bars, I never know how to tip. If I'm getting a drink that requires no preparation, I will not tip. If I get two, I will throw in a $1. If it's a rough drink, I'll throw $2 down. After all, these people are gonna have to deal with drunken fools all night.

However, I have noticed bartenders who will charge people, who they think are drunk, an extra dollar and take it as a tip. This has happened to me when I was sober. Needless to say, I caught it, called her out and decided not to tip because of the discrepancy.

Also, don't forget to tip at least $1 at a buffet. I know these waiters/waitresses are rather low maintenance in terms of waiting on your table, but they are still there and they remove your plates every time you go up and refill your drink. It doesn't happen by magic. Many times, these waiters aren't even expecting a tip, so go ahead and brighten their day.

I wanted to end this self-righteous rant with a story I was told by my girlfriend's brother. His wife was working at a Chinese buffet in middle-America. Due to circumstances with her employer, she was only making tips. There was no sort of consistent income. The only thing she got was a place to sleep in return.

During a 12-hour shift, she received 50 cents.

Enough unsympathetic human beings saw that her job was not worth throwing down a dollar for. Because of this, I will always tip buffets. I will always tip restaurants.

Who knows what that person is going through, but one things is for certain: they are their to serve you, so kick a little something back.

It's just the tip.

When Life Gives You Rotten Lemons

There is no better way to start the day than by having your car towed.

I went to run a few errands early this morning, you know, to be responsible and to get ahead of the crowd. I was determined to make this day mine by organizing funds, working out and taking my lovely girlfriend out to dinner.

However, I soon saw a bunch of cars being towed in downtown Columbus. I really didn't think too much of it except for "Man, wouldn't that suck to be that person?" All of a sudden, someone said to me "If you're parked over there, you better go move. It's street sweeping day."

I panicked. Look outside. Car was gone. So I ran outside.

Saw my poor little car being put on a truck. I asked the driver what the next step was. He was rather rude to me and said "There ain't nothing you can do now, buddy. If you gimme $20 I'll drive you back to the lot. You got 30 seconds."

He gave me roughly four before taking off with my car.

After talking to other drivers, one drove me to the lot and I spent the $200 or so to get my car back. But then, as Murphy's Law would have it, my key would not turn. Over the years, my key has been stripped and it won't work anymore. My girlfriend is the only one with the other key. Thank God she was only 20 minutes away and she had my spare with her or else I'd still be out there.

Here's where my day turns brighter. While screaming my lungs out in rage against my car, I decided to ask another driver for help. Not only did he give a true attempt at fixing it, but he also let me charge my dead phone in his truck. I let him know that Sarah wasn't going to be there for an hour so he let me go on a run with him.

The journalist in me considered this a ride-along.

For an hour, we had an absolutely fantastic conversation about life, jobs and the stupid people that inhabit our society. He told me that, for being 22 years old, I'm actually doing very well for myself. He told me of stories when people would get violent with him over having their vehicles towed. He told me about his mess ups and other peoples' mishaps.

We picked up a Dodge Ram from a private lot for not paying for parking and he gave me a ride back.

This conversation was enlightening. It gave my day hope of not being ruined. I learned today. I listened to a dude who really just wanted to be listened to.

There is a beauty through struggle, but you've got to find it. It's not always so clear. Sure, I could have went crazy on the tow drivers, but what would that have gotten me? Absolutely nothing. If anything, it would have hindered the process of moving on with my life.

Yeah, I'm out $193 for the day, but worse things could have happened. Sarah having that key saved me about $200 on getting a new key and a new ignition switch, so everything washes out and I'm not truly out too much.

When life gives you a rotten lemon, take it to the grocery store and talk produce with the employees. Who knows, maybe you'll make someone's day. Maybe you will waste your time.

One thing is for sure, you'll learn something about lemons, but even more about humans.




Note: Alan from the towing agency, you're the man. Thanks for making this hardship into something of value. I learned today and I hope you had a better day because of the ride along. Also, I'm still going to take her out tonight! Thanks again.

A Long Walk Home

It takes a number of lonely walks home to make you feel like you need to get away. To get away from everyone. The life that you felt was destined for you.

But I've walked down the same streets, alone, far too many times.

To think, I was going to stick around for this sorry lifestyle. I'm done. I'm ready to move on. This is it. I thought I was meant to stay around these people, this culture, for another year of my life. Honestly, I'm ready for the mundane life. The 401k. The working till death. The coming home to no one.

I want that.

I'm sick of counting on people who would never reciprocate the same for me.

My final stand. My final weekend as a student at the university that I have adored for four years. I praised this place and convinced dozens of people to follow suit. I counted the cracks in the sidewalks. And when I got tired of that, I watched the stars as I walked by alone.

For the last God damn time.

I Loved this place. It was my holy land. It was everything I needed to become a better, more full person. I met the right people throughout these years, but their meaning has since faded and I've become what I needed to.

An independent person. I have my own insights and my own abilities. I don't need anyone else. 

As humans, we congregate to share resources. Evolutionarily, we stuck together to get what we needed to survive. However, I feel that I am ready to do this all on my own.

I don't need the people I thought I did. I can make my own money. I can motivate myself. I can be who I want to be and surround myself with the people who fit my niche. 

I'm not like normal people. I adore chaos, yet I like sticking to a sort of plan. That's too much for some, but I don't care. It's who I am. Mock me as you will, I will not change. It's what I've become and I've grown accustomed to it. I've succeeded with such methods.

It's who I will be Forever.

As I sit in my room, I hear the echoes of stupidity. The voices of the people who have enraged me and helped me to come to the conclusions that I've jumped to.

They sound so pathetic. So weak. So dependent on an outlet of numbness. I'm done with them. I'm sick of the monotony.

I can be happy without them.

With that being said, I'm not afraid to move on. In fact, I'm ecstatic to be gone. I'm stoked. I'm elated.

There are jobs in the Carolinas that I was hesitant about, yet they were my dream jobs. What was I holding back for? For these people?

These people couldn't even help me take advantage of my final weekend as a student. They couldn't adhere to a simple idea that I had. It wasn't that hard.

I brought you all together. I wanted to have a good time with the people I Love. Instead, I was ignored and made fun of by the people I Love.

That's not what I deserve.

I'm ready for the life that is ahead of me. 12 hours away, my life can begin. Hundreds of miles away, I can start anew. That idea...fills my head with happiness.

I'm sick of this. I'm sick of either feeling alone or stagnate.

Call this a stream of conscience. Call it whatever you want. I don't care.

These are my words. My thoughts. If you're reading them, you obviously give a damn. If you're not, well you're not surprising me.

There's very few people I can count on. And even less I would call on in an emergency. Yet, there's a laundry list of people I would take a bullet for.

Take my silence as a token. A token of my appreciation for the past years. You've been great to me. However, it's time for me to see what the world has to offer. I thought sticking around was what I needed, but tonight taught me otherwise.

Three of them. Three of the best I knew turned their backs on me and I wandered alone.

Now I'll turn my back and find a new home.

The Insecurity Blanket

It's 2 a.m. and your heartbeat begins to accelerate. The world seems like it is pushing down on your shoulders. Your eyes are bloodshot and you're ready to scream.

You're nervous. You're insecure. You're scared.

Indifference about the future exists.

What am I doing with my life? Who am I supposed to marry? Is my significant other cheating on me? Will I ever have enough money to be comfortable?

These questions plague us. They rest in the back of our minds and ream their heads at times in which we can't do anything about them. However, we panic and let them ruin our night and, temporarily, our lives.

Don't let insecurity consume you. Don't let thoughts, ideas and uncertainty get the best of you.

Instead, exhibit patience and wait until you can actually do something about the issues at hand. Sleep on it. Pray. Do whatever it is that you do to get you out of your mind temporarily until you can actually fix the problems.

The main cure to insecurity I have seen is communication.

Personally, I'm quite insecure, regardless of my confidence in social situations and my ever-so-alluring swag. I let my thoughts get the best of me, but I've learned that when I discuss my issues, they are resolved or I create a plan of attack to fix them.

Grade paranoia is one of my biggest downfalls. I let my grades control me and ruin my days.

I'm so stupid. I'll never be remembered. I'll never make anything of myself. I'll be poor forever.

I've learned to converse with professors and let them know that I am a serious student. This generally buys me a grade up in the class. I've done this since my senior year in high school and it has yet to fail me.

Another issue that resides internally is the insecurity of faithfulness: is my significant other cheating on me? Such a ridiculous thought, especially if you are giving the relationship your best shot and you both are very happy with each other. However, circumstances and instances in my past freak me out and I have quite the time trusting.

I lay in my bed and play out horrific scenarios in my head that make my blood pressure rise. I begin to plot out revenge for something that hasn't even happened. I start to shake because I fear I'll be left alone.

Yep, the kid who sometimes walks around with vampire fangs, 
teased hair, snake bites, studded belts and eyeliner gets a little
nervous about what people think of him and his future.

,

I'm pathetic. There's someone out there that can make her feel more comfortable and wanted than I.

In this case, security is also achieved through communication. I talk to my girlfriend and let her know my feelings. She reassures me and, even though I'm not 100 percent comfortable at the time, I can rest a little better at night.

There's no point in worrying about things you cannot control at the moment. Freaking out about the future in the middle of the night won't resolve anything. Wait until the morning, after you have slept, to create a plan of attack.

You're better than a panic attack. You have so much more to offer the world.

Don't let insecurity weigh you down, because chances are, since you are already aware of what needs to be done, you will get it done! You know what you want to achieve, or what you don't want to become, so you will work toward an optimal future.

Sometimes I wish I could heed my own advice. I get wrapped up in my physical appearance and weight that I shut out everyone, including myself. There's a voice inside of me that hates what I am and yells at the mirror.

Look at how fat you are. No one could ever find you attractive. Workout now or you won't earn the right to eat tonight. 

However,  I know that I can't be completely physically fit in one night and that I have come along way since I started, so I shouldn't worry.

Positively reinforce yourself. If you can't, then let your best friends know your insecurities. Trust me, letting someone in will be scary at first, but when they do their best to understand and they say the right things and the right times, you will be happy you did.

Communication and patience. Those are the keys to a lower stress level. 

It's like the night before the first day of school: restless legs, tossing and turning, thoughts and nervousness about the day to come. Because it's not yet the first day of school, don't worry about it!  Don't stress over something you cannot control.

I'm strong. I can do this. I've always done it. I know who I want to be and I will become that. Just let me get a little sleep first and we'll slay this monster in the morning.

Attack the issue when you can and save yourself from insecurity.

Hold Hands, Not Grudges

If you're mad at someone, just let them know.

The idea of transparency can save time, frustration and even relationships. Why drag on a conflict if it is only waring you down? There's not point in suffering one more moment if a simple discussion can fix the issue.

Courtesy of Tumblr.com/knittingunicorn

Holding grudges is fun. You have control, or at least you think you do. You feel entitled and empowered because someone has wronged you, but feeling in charge will get you no where.

If the world was perfect, as soon as conflict would arise, the two or more parties would fix it immediately and go on living. Both would be wiser from the encounter and would know what actions to avoid for next time. However, we don't live in a perfect world.

We lived in a fundamentally flawed one.

What is the point in keeping silent and allowing anger to rise up inside of you? Does one think that the feeling of empowerment will last forever? Because it won't.

In all my experiences of being upset with someone, if I held on for too long, one of two things would happen: I would forget what I was fighting about and just have a negative feeling toward someone forever or I would realize that what I was angry about for so long was completely useless and I would feel ashamed.

I have felt that shame a lot. When I was younger, I was incredibly dramatic. Still am, but only when it won't really hurt anyone or any friendships. But as I've grown older, the idea of holding a grudge reflects a lack of maturity and appreciation of human kind.

We're all people. We all make mistakes, whether we know it or not. If your problem with someone is situational and not a chronic issue, address it with the person. Perhaps they didn't even know they messed up. They will continue living without a care and you will let the pressure burden you and the empowerment to enslave you.

If you heed my advice and choose to resolve the issue immediately, do so in a rational fashion. No one likes to feel attacked. That empowerment you felt is invisible and won't protect you from losing an argument, looking like a fool, or even worse, getting your jaw busted. Don't go Dr. Phil on someone, but just treat the matter in a way that you would want it to be treated if you were on the receiving end. The Golden Rule.

Keeping grudges will keep you alone in your head. Learn to forgive, not forget and live a stronger life. http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/lauren-xenos.html

If you come up to someone with a chip on your shoulder and an attitude of apologetic entitlement, you're going to look like dolt. Being patient, understanding and empathetic will get you far.

The next time someone angers you, don't go to Twitter. Don't go to other people. Address it calmly and immediately. Fix it and go one with life. Too many people fight for no logical reason.

Remaining hung up on trivial matters makes one look like a simpleton. You're better than that.

Let it go and live.

Love Where I Am; Love Where I've Been

I can honestly say that I was blessed to grow up in the generation that I did.

Besides all the wonderful, yet cliche, 90s kid stuff, I grew up with a dream. A dream that was fueled by music and a crowd in front of me. Not only that, but I was able to satisfy that dream, to an extent.

And let me tell you, I may not know the true meaning to life, but I know that feeling has something to do with it.

On nights when most kids were either at basketball practice or studying their time away, I was sitting in my room with my guitar, dreaming, praying to, one day, play my songs (or In Our Suffering's songs) in front of thousands of people.

I desired this not for the material reasons, but because I know that the songs I was writing alone, in my room with my unplugged guitar and a notebook, were coming from my heart and fingertips. These songs may not be Top 40 hits, but they would surely mean a lot to some kid going through the same stuff.

"You will remember this day."

Even now, I find myself fretting and picking with my guitar at my waist as I stand in guitar power stance in my kitchen. Seriously though, the way the kitchen light shines, it makes it look like a stage light and I Love it. I still get the same goosebumps that I did when I was 16, having practice with my brothers. Make fun of me, I don't care. That feeling is phenomenal and I only wish you too could feel it one day.

No feeling will ever compare to that of playing live and seeing people you have never met singing along to a song, not because it is incredibly good, but because they've see you play live so many times that they have started to enjoy your act.

I still have my dream, but it's not the same. I'm older now. Perhaps too old. I had my chance and now it is some other kids' chance to play.

I take issue with the fact that these kids have no one to look up to anymore. They have no more local heroes or venues. The dream is fading fast and that scares me.

We live in a day in age in which kids compete for likes instead of working together to get a local show together. Go ahead and go to your Myspace, log in and listen to some of the bands you were friends with back in the day. Basque in their perfect imperfectness. That's not what you get today.

I urge any kid who has a guitar, drum kit or a mic and a damn dream to band together and make it happen.  It's worth it.

It's worth the hassle of setting up a show. It's worth having a band member not show up to a concert and you having to fill in for drums. It's worth having your band and dream destroyed by an ex-girlfriend.

Honestly, I believe in a sense of karma and emotional equality in every action we do, but my years playing guitar, on stage, left me with a credit of happiness.

Despite it ending and my vision being shot down in flames, I can still close my eyes and see all my memories play out in front of me and get the same butterflies I had that day.

For that very reason, I am the luckiest kid in the world.

I lived out a part of my dream.

Pick Me Up and I'll Never Let You Down

I am the unread book and you're the reader trapped in the library.

Who am I to you? Am I a stranger or am I close friend? Have I ever done anything to change your life for the better or for the worst? If not, then let me.

There are so many individuals out there with distinct, unique stories. I want to tell mine to someone new; someone who may understand what I have been through and why I strive to be who I will be one day.

I'm nostalgic. I'm progressive. I learn from past failures. Even though I long for what I have, I know that I can never get comfortable anywhere because the idea of settling down for good scares me to pieces.

My life is an open book and I'm ready for any person to pick it up.

Tell me about yourself. That's all I want. I want to hear your story.

I've never been much of a reader, but I've always been a listener.

You know when you're reading your textbooks and you realize that you went through an entire paragraph and didn't retain one word? Now picture you telling the story of your life and someone picks up their phone and starts texting, or interjects without any empathy to you. This is how the book feels. Worthless. Like your story isn't worth this person's time.

"I should go to bed, but I'll stay up until whenever 
if you want to talk."

Trust me, if you talk to me, I will never let you collect dust. I'll never let your pages fade or weather.

There's something magical about having someone pay attention to your every word. Not just your words, but the inflections in your voice when you are really adamant about a topic; the change in tone that only the greatest authors can portray in writing.

If you're out there reading this and you have never gotten to know me, put a bookmark in this page and let me read into you a bit more.

I'm sure there's a masterpiece within you. 

Blame It On The Weather

Let's just say that I'm feeling a little empty inside. I have no biological support system, my best friend is gone and I am getting mentally abused by people who are supposed to be my equals. I'm showing signs of physical dysmorphia. No matter how hard I try, how much I work out, how much I diet, every morning, I look in the mirror and absolutely despise what I see. One may think this normal, but it's becoming extreme. I honestly will see an added 20 or 30 lbs. that other people don't see. Some days it is better. Some days it is worse. However, it's usually always there. Deep down, I know I likely look fine, but I cannot push the mental block in my head out of the way.
"You're despicable. How the hell do you have a girlfriend? Your face and stomach are so fat, you shouldn't even go out in public. You're a disgrace." These are some of the things I subconsciously tell myself. This depression has gotten to the point where I want to do something physical about it, but I know cutting is not wise because it leaves scars and gets people talking. That's not what I want. I don't really want attention. Starving myself is an option, but I don't want to be weak and I've seen what it has done to family members. My outlet is working out incredibly hard. Forcing myself to lift for inane amounts of times. If I don't workout and run 5-6 times a week, my self worth is shot. I feel completely awful.
My birthday was this past week and let's just say I never really handle birthdays all that well. I'm just getting older. There's no excitement. Everyone around me is settling down and moving on with their lives. Their energy is being drained. I'm beginning to come to grips with reality. My life will never be as fun/exciting as it once was. That sentiment alone makes me want to hide away forever. I guess this is growing up.
["If letting go means true happiness for you and I, then I'll release you forever to save our lives. Against my will. But I will never forget you and what you've done to my life."]
There's no sunshine in my life right now. I look out the window and the world is gray. I feel nothing. And when I do feel some sort of emotion, it is negative. I write songs to cope, but then that sacrifices other time that I am supposed to using to finish a completely ridiculous task. I need to make very big changes in my life if I want to get back on the right track.
The same mechanisms I used to help me deal with emptiness are now the ones causing the voids. I used people to fix my depression, but now those people are gone. They've moved away. She's got her own life now and I can be cast aside. My best friends have been my family. Now that they seem to be fading away from me, I feel no sense of belonging. And this isn't some cool, rogue, "lone ranger" feeling. This is an emptiness. I feel no one understands my way of living.
I feel that no one out there feels as strongly as I do about anything. I am an emotional person, but I don't let my emotions make me look crazy. They make me the exciting person that I am today. But people have condemned me for my personality. I'm immature because I give everyone and everything a chance. I'm silly because I try new things.
I try to be a rock for each individual. Getting to know people is one of my most favourite things in this life. However, society deems that creepy and abrasive. In a way, it is more acceptable for me to seek out sex from a stranger than a lasting friendship. I just want to talk to someone.
However, one ray of light is shining through: I still have my faith. I have faith that this will all get better. I still believe in God. I don't care what anyone's religion says or is, this is just a way for me to keep my head up.
But it's hard to keep your head up when so much is weighing on your mind. Looking over the horizon isn't as exciting as it once was because I have no one to commentate with. I have no one to plan with.
I miss you all. Everyone I have ever come in contact with. Anyone I have ever had a heart-to-heart with. My world feels empty.
I would do anything to have a late-night conversation. The feelings I am dealing with now make my lifestyle miserable. I wake, hate what I see. Go to class, try and succeed and get made fun of. I am unappreciated. I walk home, with my head down. I sing out loud as a form of comfort, only to get glared at by the stranger I didn't know was there. I go to bed. Alone. Only to repeat the cycle the next day.
How long can I keep doing this? How long will the clouds keep covering the sun? Please, let the sun shine through. I meant to be something more than how I feel.