" . . . and all faces are the same . . ." Part II

So yeah . . .

I'm at work and like always, I was looking at people's faces . . . and they all looked the same . . .

The whole time . . . I was like, "I know that person . . . that's my friend . . . over there, over here . . ."

Anyway, I don't know why I said that but I didn't say it out loud . . .

So yeah . . .

Question: If you asked someone a question, would you look for the next person around and ask the same question without receiving an answer from the first?

This lady at work did . . . not knowing that coffee filters are in the coffee aisle . . .

It makes sense to me . . . and I found them . . .

I assumed she looked, she had coffee in her hand . . . and she said she couldn't find them . . .

I found them in the coffee aisle . . .

Makes sense to me . . .

It's like having a conversation with someone who just talks and never lets you interject by increasing their volume and continuing as though you never spoke at all . . .

It's like not talking about what you love unless you're asked a specific question . . .

It's like a face without a name or a name without a face . . .


I have no idea why I just said that . . . but it wasn't out loud . . .


Yet

" . . . and all faces look the same . . ." (Scylla and Charybdis)

Ok, Ok, Ok . . .

Maybe it's just me and we all know I'm halfway out of the mind that's half insane, but . . .

All these faces look the same . . .

Maybe I'm getting older and maybe I'm just . . . I don't know . . .

I mean from old friends to ex-girlfriends . . . I keep seeing the same faces everywhere. They have different names, but that's about where the differences end . . . it's mildly disconcerting when exes have the same personality traits . . . it makes you wonder how good your decision making is . . .

Anyway, on to something related but not . . .

I was at work the other night and a co-worker comes up to me and proceeds to tell me a story about how I remind him of this guy he used to know. I was ready to take this as a compliment outside of the obvious racial (not racist) remarks about my hair . . .

Well, the story ends with him telling me that my doppelganger drank all of the alcohol in his house and pissed his wife off so they don't talk no more . . . and I'm left standing there like "thank you?"

I wonder why people decide to tell fucked up stories and disguise them as compliments or worse . . .

But I digress . . .

In my search for a point of reference I come across the same bridge. The first time, I took the first step, the second time I swam across the god-damn, and the third time I just kinda shrugged my shoulders and accepted the company . . . now mind you my interests possibly lie elsewhere, but . . .

You know, I should just say "fuck it" and tell everyone to get fucked and mosie on down the road on my lonesome . . . take Hetfield's advice and be the road warrior that I've grown and adapted to be . . .

But I've done that already, and to tell you the truth, I'm ready for change . . .

I find the biggest problem is that you either take it too serious or not serious enough and you're always trying to make up the difference with pennies . . . it's quite tedious and painstaking and you always end up that one cent short of a hundred so you dig everywhere for that last penny, only to find you had it all along and just miscounted . . .

So what is the answer? Where is the divine, absolute truth in this . . . I mean even scientist say we aren't meant, engineered, or conditioned to be alone . . . but is that based on "normalcy"?

What if "crazy" works for me?

. . .

Anywho, I don't know . . . Chino would say he could " . . . see it comin' over his cloud", Ed Kowalczky would say he "could feel it comin' back again", Plant would say he "could feel it callin' him the way it used to", and Maynard would say, "Been through this before" . . . but where does that leave me? What do I say?

Times like these I go back to thinking that I think too much, which leads me to think too much about thinking too much . . . after that I usually go to sleep . . . and think too much subconsciously . . .

But I swear I'm not crazy . . .

The Buddha says to walk the Middle Path . . . he just failed to tell you about the tripwire, howitzers, guerrillas, claymores, plasma grenades, semi-automatic rifles, air strikes, and torrential downpour that accompanies your Eightfold Path through Hell . . . ok, Purgatory . . .

Fuckin' philosophers . . .

"If You Still Care At All, Don't Call . . ."

Ok . . . I'm sure we've all had a friend or significant other give the indication that a phone call from them is imminent and not gotten said phone call . . . the only problem is that this causes a line of questioning and thinking that ranges from apathy to anger and there aren't enough personalities to deal with them all, hence the proverbial crash . . .

How much stock do you put into a phone call . . . how much stock to you put into the "promise" behind it? How come I have to be the one to initiate the contact if the feelings are mutual? Are the feelings truly mutual? Am I being strung along here? Are you absent-minded? Or do you just not care? Or are you too busy?

Yes, it is true, I am a guy . . . yes, this is a small fraction of the line of questioning I engage in given the present situation . . . and no, for the record I am not gay and I am not making this up.

But seriously, is it suspicious if the only time people talk to you is if you remind them that you exist? Can you call these people friends, lovers, acquaintances?

Am I just as guilty because I decided to wait for a phone call that was not coming?

But then how come you don't just call at all, anyway . . . unless, of course, I call you first . . .

I just don't get it . . . is it me? Do I think to much? Am I putting too much stock into this?

Are my efforts to not speak ill all for naught?

I would very much like to know what it is to not be a after-thought . . . to not be a "oh it's just" person, but a "hey, you are a" person. To be thought of outside of the confines of convenience, to actually come first in someone's life other than mine . . . or do I have to pay for that too?

I can't help but think that this will end for the worst . . . it makes me want to abandon hope and jettison this person from my life. I asked for patience and intend to give it, but even God hates when people neglect him. He hates the, "Oh, I can just . . ." attitude.

After a lifetime and a half of being taken for granted, I'm getting tired of the same routine.

I need to find a place where intellect and spirituality are valued, not iPhones . . .

Perhaps one day I'll make enough money to have earned that privilege . . .

Sometimes I Feel Like Jesus Christ . . . Sometimes I Don't . . . (Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor . . .)

Meshuggah and Hockey had to have been invented at the same time . . . cause they go so well together . . .

I've often wondered how Jesus felt when all the people He knew denied they knew Him . . . or how He feels when we forget He exists . . .

I think I've gotten a better understand of this over the past couple of weeks . . .

It's amazing that humans have the capacity to remember dates, moments, nostalgia, pop culture, memories, etc. and cannot remember the face of a friend that is right in front of them, nor can they remember the countless number of times when that friend has been a "friend indeed" and not a "friend in need".

I understand that humans are flawed, I understand what it is to have a hectic life or a screwed up brain but I still can't wrap mine around how we can forget the very words that come out of our mouths or how to appreciate the things that we are given . . .

Again this brings me back to the notion of the increasing materiality of the human condition . . .

It seems that we have lost all respect for the man who is able to sacrifice his time, energy, and patience and in turn gained a shameful respect for money.

Again I have to ponder the fact that intelligence, competency, and even one's inherent personality and nature are now solely dependant on the contents of one's wallet and not the contents of the heart or soul.

America is in a state of economic fallow. The last time this happened in our country, a greater resolve of the human spirit was fostered in the wake of mass suicide and psychological depression. Neighbors broke bread with neighbors, lended the helping hand, and expanded communities to welcome the down-trodden and less fortunate. I fear that history is repeating itself in some sort of alternate reality, in which we have sacrificed our humanity and the history of which we "pride" ourselves on for a couple more moments in the sun . . .

Are we not supposed to be the products of evolution? Are we not supposed to "Learn from the past to influence the future"? Moreover, are we so shallow, self-absorbed, and greedy that we would beg for empathy only to refuse the same to another? If our "great country" endured the same economic and social trauma through perseverance and a general regard for one's fellow man, how much more should we be mindful of the "great heritage" of our "great country"?

I daresay that the root problem causing so much strife throughout our nation is a lack of social reform.

For the record I don't expect a nationwide gathering at every meeting house in America tomorrow. I would like to see a greater majority of Americans with some sort of philosophical backbone, not so easily swayed by the popular vote. A nation of thinkers, speakers, doers who put stock in action and not words (they are a dime a dozen).

Bullshit seems not only commonplace but expected, accepted, and praised . . . how are we to accomplish anything?

People ask me why I don't talk, why I am so quiet and I am tempted to reply, "Because I'm too busy doing something to talk about what I'm doing."

It seems that the American Spirit has been watered down . . . we are no longer the industrious nation we once were. Moreover, we have lost the one thing that made this country great . . . integrity.

It is now OK to not complete things, it's acceptable to slack off, it's not popular to be hard-working, ambitious, self-motivated, honest, or even task-orientated . . .

Ignorance is bliss and will earn you the ear of every sorry sod this side of the Mississippi . . .

I often wish there were a way to stop the world and maintain the consciousness of everyone in the world, climb to the highest point on Earth with the biggest loudspeaker known to man and scream at the top of my lungs, "WE ARE ALL RETARDED!!!!!!!!" and at that moment it would happen . . .

Every man, woman, child, and whatever-the-hell would turn, look at the next and completely drop their ego. They would no longer look at the cars, the women, the wallet, or the job to determine the validity of the person. Actions would truly speak louder than words and the ones who did not conform to this simple anecdote would be the minority, the out-cast, the unwanted . . . let natural selection have it's way . . .

Crazy Little Thing Called "_ _ _ _" (Part II)

I'm watching the Devils seal the deal on a win, enjoying the irritating but clean smell of bleach . . .

I've been playing devil's advocate with myself for the past week and a half . . .

I didn't realize just how cynical I was until I saw the same cynicism in someone else . . . the fact that they are an interest makes the point all the more poignant.

Now I have to consider everything that I've said and done . . . looking at it from the opposite point of view . . . which is a daunting task . . . my walls have already been built, I've already set my ways and spirit in a certain line of thought, and I've committed time and energy to maintaining an abject refusal and denial of the present situation.

But now I have to consider all this work as detrimental to my mental and spiritual growth . . .

I mean, is it really that important? In our modern society, the notion of having ideal is regarded as naive, foolish . . . even to the point of being retarded. No one else plays by the rules, there is no honor among thieves . . . we all should just go out there and take what's owed to us . . .

But then I look at the world around me with my own eyes, removing the veil . . .

All the people that I know who think in the aforementioned way are, in fact, miserable. They take everything they want to take, they have everything they feel is important and yet they are still searching, hungering for more. They put all of their stock in material things and are still wanting . . . why? The object of the game is to have the most stuff and pay the least for it . . . they should be happy they are winning . . .

Unless there's more to this . . .

I've lived enough life to have first-hand experience, assurance, and knowledge that there's something else at work here. To document all the proof here and now would one; take more typing then I'm prepared to do right now and two; take away from the overall point I'm trying to make here . . . perhaps another blog . . .

Anyway, to sum it up, as many times as I've been handed the short end of the stick is as many times as I've stood atop the mountain, arms raised in a "V".

But it's lonely at the top . . .

Ironically, I've been on a kick, listening to all the music I used to listen to right before my life fell apart (the first time). That situation involved a job and a girl (she was a looker, too) and it ended with me quitting the job (for reasons I will not disclose) and being called a bum (by the looker). All the people I've ever had in my life are around for the good times and run for cover like cockroaches to light when hard times hit. It seems I have a knack for stepping over the edge when things are going well and clawing right back up when I fall on hard times . . . some would call this resilience . . . I'm more likely to call it lunacy.

I've never been good with relationships, my family life sucks, my friendships are rocky and I spend most of my time alone. Consequently, it has an impact on the way I look at life, people, and society in general. In short, I have severe trust and abandonment issues . . . to the point where they cause a significant degree of paranoia and schizophrenia . . .

I wrestle with my humanity.

Naturally, I seek to procreate as any human does, but, as strong as nature is I am equally, if not more driven to secure and further my "man-thought" . . . I quest for immortality. I've even toyed with the theory that there is something important for me to express or create, and my own immortality has created a flaw in my personality that will not allow me a successful relationship so that this life's work can be completed.

At first blush, I considered this to be quite outrageous but then I thought about the connection between one's brain and spirit. Psychologically, if someone can create mental blocks of traumatic events, then the notion that I could have sub-consciously pushed love interests away in pursuit of spiritual fulfilment doesn't seems so far-fetched. In fact, it's a better theory than just writing myself off as an asshole . . .

Still, the question that remains is: How can I accomplish this great task without experiencing a complete life? You know the saying: Behind every great man is a great woman . . . well, we're not in Japan . . . you can walk next to me if you wanna . . . at least that's how I see it . . . my problem is I can't find anyone that can keep pace with me . . .

But this is supposed to be about compromise . . .

This is where it gets hairy . . . if I slow down for someone else, will they speed up for me? Truthfully, I'm more worried about being a detriment to the other person, fuck what they can give me . . . I don't need much more than someone to come home to. I probably wouldn't be so unstable if I knew there was somebody in my corner . . . I'd sacrifice damn near everything just to know what that's like . . .

I often wonder if there is anyone truly capable of dealing . . .

My acquaintances and most of the women that I meet know me to be "happy-go-lucky", "entertaining", "funny" . . . you get the picture. Little do they know that I'm a walking emotional train-wreck. They see me as this "knight in shinning armor" who will solve all of their problems and sweep them off of their feet . . . they want me to fight for them but they are unable and unwilling to mend my battle scars . . . they don't know how to smith and they can barely cook . . . you can't fight on an empty stomach.

People in general have no idea that I had to find a reason to get out of bed this morning that didn't involve a revolver. They think cause I got a baby face and a pretty good vocabulary, I got it made. They can't see the stitches, lacerations, stab wounds, and all the cybernetic parts that make up this charming personality . . . I'm humorous cause I laugh at my own misery.

It makes me wonder if this is even for me, cause if I wasn't miserable or lonely, I don't know if I'd have the same outlook, say the things I say or smile the way I do. But then I think about how much more engaging I could be if I were truly happy . . .

So I remain Strider until I find a reason to come out of the shadows and take my rightful place as king . . .

When Hollywood Waxes Philosophical . . .

I've been awake since about 9 am. watching the Star Wars marathon on Spike TV.

Upon watching "Empire" and currently watching "Return Of The Jedi", I was hit with a sense of nostalgia . . . and I was brought back to a better time . . . a time of summer vacations at my mom's house watching the original Trilogy(out of order, as I would find out later) on a VHS tape. The tape actually still exists, recorded from a time when there was only one HBO channel, (Ch. 14 for me).

As I was still in grade school, Star Wars for me was a movie that had really cool scenes and really cool stuff going on . . . I mean what kid wouldn't wanna fly spaceships and whack stuff with a sword made of light that can cut through anything, and say really cool one-liners that fit every moment perfectly? Looking back now, and after watching a million and one documentaries on Star Wars, it's the swashbuckling, action-packed, entertainment value of the movie that I appreciated back then . . .

But then I got older . . .

I began to grasp the underlying message in Star Wars shortly after beginning my theological and philosophical studies. My spiritual masters and mentors both were big Star Wars fans, and as they were older and wiser, they were able to use the movies as a teaching tool to instruct me in the ways of what I would now call "Christian Buddhism".

As Zen Buddhism has no central deity, it is philosophically sound for one to fully believe in Christianity while being a devout Christian. Because my mentors were well versed in both methods of thought, the circles of influence pertaining to these belief structures overlapped, giving me a strong and solid foundation in these philosophical studies. I began to internalize the notion of being a Jedi, not to levitate salt shakers, but to be ever mindful, and to use my God-given talents for good . . . to not give in to the anger, fear, and confusion that had ruled my life to date and to see the common thread of humanity that exists in us all. Later, my reading of "The Elegant Universe" would give a scientific validity to this belief . . .

But that is neither here nor there . . .

Upon the release of the Prequel, I lost respect for the Lucasfilm camp . . . I mean, why tell me a story that I already know? It was a great idea on paper, and initially I was upset solely because Star Wars became "cool", something that all the "preps" in school could go see and brag about because it was "the thing". Instead of it being a philosophical wonder, it became nothing more than a box office success . . .

It wasn't until recently that I understood the complete picture . . .

When one begins to understand warfare and the political/economical effects thereof, one understands how and why a golden age declines . . . The Prequels are not just explaining Anakin Skywalker's journey to the Dark Side, it's actually documenting the decline of an enlightened civilization (The Republic) into a much more modern and realistic depiction of humanity (The Empire vs. The Alliance).

The inevitability of humanity and it's representation in both Christianity and Zen Buddhism shows that there are opposing forces at work in our lives. The Christians would tell you it's Good vs. Evil, The Zen Buddhist would tell you they are Masculine and Feminine. Star Wars tells you they are Dark and Light. At any rate, each method of thought will tell you that a lack of balance creates chaos, most noticeable in the Star Wars Universe. Anakin does, in fact, bring balance to the force by way of his son, Luke. This harkens to the Christian ideal that God the Father brings the gift of salvation to humanity by way of his son, Jesus. Enlightenment came to the Buddha upon his leaving his father's side to go out into the world and discover the reason for pain and suffering. A deeper look finds that Luke's biggest foe is the darkness that is inherent in him. Luke is the only Jedi "to date" that has gone from Light to Dark and back to Light. In fact, in the novels that take place after ROTJ, Luke courts both Light and Dark, thus balancing The Force. Do we as humans not walk the fine line between the Light and the Dark? Do humans not have the ability to create life as well as destroy it? Do we not give into greed as many times as we give into benevolence?

As Christians we are trained to recognize the evil in us and to work to rid ourselves of our more base promptings through study, prayer, and works done in faith. Just the same, a Jedi is trained to trust his instincts and not to give in to the human's inevitable loss of faith, and to cultivate that faith in The Force through meditation. A Zen Buddhist practices physical and spiritual meditations, reads good books, and sits at the feet of his spiritual master in order to learn to recognize and gain ultimate control over one's own humanity and manipulate it thus.

As I watch the conclusion of ROTJ I still quote the movie damn near verbatim while recognizing the cinematic excellence of Spielberg and Lucas's works. However, now more than ever, underneath the script and the special effects, I can see for myself the correlation between art and life . . . and knowing that this discovery is not necessarily new or ground-breaking, it holds a certain importance for me. I'd love nothing more than to walk outside of my place of residence with nothing but an X-Wing, a droid, and a lightsaber, traversing the galaxy and using my God-given gift to save the universe . . . then I realize that my lightsaber has six-strings, my hoodie is my cloak, and my God-given talents levitate the spirits of those around me when ever I wield my weapon. My X-Wing has two arms and two legs.

I look back on my life and realize that I have conquered the darkness in me, that I live in a state of perpetual balance, and that through constant vigilance and dedication I can save this dying universe . . .

I am a modern-day Jedi . . .

Crazy Little Thing Called "_ _ _ _" (Part I-A)

A great song with great lyrics and an awesome message:

You don't have to be afraid cause you're a miracle through and through.

You don't have to be afraid of the miracle inside of you . . .

What has love become?

It's not like we used to hear in those old songs and it's not like yours.

What has love become?

Your love is in motion and it's spinning me around, yeah.

Your love is in motion for the rhythm that's in you . . .

You should not be angry cause all she wants is your money.

You should not be angry cause all you want is her body . . .

Your love is a fast song and I'm dancing cause I'm loved again.

My heart is in motion for the movement that's in you.

Your love is a slow song, it's resounding through my world again.

My love is in motion for the song inside of you . . .

Crazy Little Thing Called "_ _ _ _"? (Part I)

I wonder if we've replaced our hearts with ATM's . . . if the investment of our love must be shown as cash deposits . . . If this notion of "love" is an emotion, intangible without a means of material expression, should we not replace the phrase with "mutual economic advancement" or in even simpler terms "legal prostitution"?
Maybe it’s just me, and maybe I’m just jealous or angry or jaded or just plain old incapable . . . but this thing cannot be based on money alone . . . there has to be a reason why we are willing to hold each other up with stacks of paper that mean nothing without precious metals and a system that dictates the value of such. There has to be a reason why we think that pornography is wrong and marriage is right . . .
I mean, if a relationship is nothing more than a way to make banking easier, if “love” is nothing more than “I have sex with you because you pay my rent” or “If I pay this bill, will you let me get in your pants”, why don’t we just cut the shit and call a spade a spade? Why is it illegal for women (or men) to sell themselves to others for a matter of hours or even a night but it is commonplace for a woman (or man) to spend the rest of their natural lives locked into a sexual tug-of-war based on finance and social standing?
I can say, without a doubt that the majority of my relationships with women have been tainted with the notion that I would provide their every material fantasy. It is a sad actuality, but an actuality nonetheless. In fact, the minute, second, hour that I withheld funds or did not supply a certain service, the relationship crumbled as if built on shoddy foundation. ::hint,hint, nudge, nudge::
Furthermore, the purest of these relationship have been based on one principle, my ability to treat said women with an unparalleled respect . . . chivalry, if you will. This leads me to ask: Is chivalry truly dead or am I just obsolete? ::laughs::
Yet even this point ends bittersweet when I consider the fact that none of these relationships have been spiritually, sexually, emotionally, or financially fulfilling to me. The question now becomes: Is it [love] worth it?
I have not lived enough years or lifetimes to answer this question and this dissertation is far from over, but I leave these thoughts to be criticized openly, in hopes that through chastisement a definitive answer to an infinite query can be found . . .