The Stars of Orion ...

i stayed up late to watch the world die --
(a feeling of empty while
the weary feed on
subconscious anomalies and other
r.e.manifestations).
fed up with a life that has
become something less-than,
i sought answers in the trees.
a willow whispered -
far enough.
i replied
not yet.

Drones in the Valley ...

"Here we stand at this fork in the road
We got no time to waste
Oh which way shall we go?
This old world's spinning out of control
Oh which way shall we go?
Which way shall we go?
I can't believe this, it makes me sick."
--- Cage the Elephant, 'Drones in the Valley'

[The "new post" button is very intimidating. It taunts me every time I visit this site.]

I've become dismayed with people.
Again.

'People' and I have developed a love/hate relationship of late. For some reason, I have become acutely aware of the pretentiousness that permeates the area in which I live .. and I can't stand it. It's more than the examples of entitlement that I've seen before. It's deeper than that. It's proof to me that for some - no, for most - a new unstoppable force has taken over their lives and pushes them to greater, higher heights of arrogance and obnoxiousness:

Ego.

The one thing that makes us keenly aware that we are better than 'this,' 'that,' or 'them.' Apparently, when it goes unchecked, it goes wild. It's worse than selfishness; deeper than greed. It keeps us from being our true selves in favor of the self that we want others to be aware (read: jealous) of.

Ergo, ego has won.

What's more important: appearance, or substance? Seeing, or being seen? I think that we all reach a point in our lives where being ego-centric is accepted, if not expected. But shouldn't we grow out of that? Shouldn't that be dropped in favor of growth - for ourselves, in our careers, in love with another - and progress? It's the reason that 'grown' people are constantly running around touting their swagger (remember when 'swagger' was really just 'charisma'?). It's the reason that adult men find it acceptable to grab adult women in public and demand their attention. It's the reason why fights start. It's the reason why we burn out. It's the reason why we can't communicate. It's the reason why we deprive ourselves of basic needs in order to show out for someone else's approval.

And I see it every single day. Worse, I live and exist not only in a time period, but in a career where self-deprivation is a hallmark... and rarely for the noble reasons it once was. Rather than giving of themselves for the greater good, I am constantly surrounded by this new(est) breed of egotistical attorney whose only fidelity is to the bottom line. Yes, s/he kills his/her self in the interim, but only to better their stature.

Yes: ego has hijacked dignity, too, while holding civility and decency hostage. And at the rate we're going, damned if we can afford the ransom. To say I'm unimpressed by what I've been watching recently would be an understatement.

To say I'm giving up on people, though, would just be a lie.

I believe in inherent goodness. I believe that this whole culture led by ego will die. I believe it will be replaced by a culture anchored in respect and some form of tolerance. We will get away from ourselves in an effort to pursue happiness .. not the zero-sum form that we seem to think exists (the kind that says my happiness must come at the expense of yours, where there are only winners and losers), but the collective kind where we all receive joy by seeing the next man doing well. You have to believe in these things, or the current state of affairs will eat you alive. Then we'll know for sure that ego has won.

Another victim claimed.

Well Thought Out Twinkles ...

I promised a return.
(I live for the enticement of anticipation. The allure of bated breath.)

I'll give you the following bullet points to hang your hats on:

• I passed the Maryland bar exam. In a month's time, I will officially be a sworn-in member of the Maryland State Bar. I am where I wanted to be .. where I said I'd be.
  
• My girlfriend is amazing. It still feels unreal to mention her by title, but she has taught me so much by her example that I can't even begin to describe or explain her influence. More importantly, she's been a great, great friend to me from day 1.
• I'm being haunted. At least it feels that way. There's a certain spectre hanging over my shoulder. I can't tell if I want it there or not.
  
• I feel the desire .. nay, the need to write again. Expect something from me as soon as I can tease it out via the right muse. My mind needs to release before it explodes. Addition by subtraction.
  
• The heat in my house is on Mississippi Plantation. It's hot in here.

Expect to hear from me.
(I think I have something to say this time.)

Unglued ...

There's a moderate amount of screaming going on in my head.
The words, the messages don't make any sense. But they're incessant.
It's an annoying sort of chaos.

I've had another one of those hi/lo weeks - and it's only half over. As usual, it's been punctuated with a particular kind of emptiness that won't allow me to rest completely. Chips have fallen, but I could use a few falling my way.

When they do, I'll likely feel myself again. Likely. No guarantees.

In the meantime...

Lockjaw ...

I teased you, I know. For that I'm sorry.

Judgment day is Friday. Expect to hear more once the date has passed. If you've got a spare prayer available, send one up for me!

Things Done Changed ...

It's been a while, I know. And I know you're expecting some grandiose return, in chilling and stunning and magical fashion.

Well, I got nothin'.

But rest assured that something is coming. Something big. At least that's how I see it. There's an order beginning to form - like watching rain drops form into a puddle, things are falling into place. People, places, things and opportunities are becoming real. Please believe, it's coming.

I can feel it.

Comfortably Numb ...

It's too dark in here.
Sometimes I look around and see all of this black
and it makes me wonder who I'm really trying to be.
That,
or who I really am.
Maybe I do thrive in the darkness...

Feeling my way through life lately. Trying to get a better understanding of what it is that I need in order to be happy, successful, and to continue growing. Trying to organize, gather, and compile the necessary components to a well-rounded existence.

But I don't know where to start.

Everyone asks how I'm coping out here these days. To even the simplest, "how are you?" my answer is always the same. "I'm okay." I don't even know what that means. It's not quite a matter of contentment - I know this because I don't have everything I want, let alone the things I'd like to have, at my disposal or even within my reach. It's not a despondent, nonchalant response devoid of any feeling whatsoever, either. And to tell the truth, it's not even quite an "I'm alright," because I don't know if I am. So if I'm not happy, "great," or "good," and I have no reason or desire to describe myself as doing "bad" ... if I'm not upset, angry, frustrated, anxious, or otherwise emotive, then what the hell am I?

Comfortably numb.

It's a strange space to occupy: devoid of parameters or barriers to contain the sentiment; quietly somehow satisfactory. It's the lovechild of monotony and languor; stepson to loneliness. "Every day is exactly the same." I pace. I wander. I think. I have fits of stir craziness. Sleep is no longer a haven - it only comes to separate the days, and sometimes it's even forsaken as the days run together on their own. I've seen this place before, or at least some iteration of it.

I didn't like it then and I don't think I like it now.

This is a strange and strangely extended transitional period that I've been involved in, and I can't say that I'm not ready to see the other side. I don't love uncertainty, but I sure do know how to find my way to the center of it.

So every night I silently pray for the next day to snap me out of this funk. I don't like this game of mental dress-up where I'm forced to parade around as someone I'm not - even if I'm the only one who sees the farce. I want to get back to feeling like myself 24 hours a day and not just when the sun is up. I don't want to fight with my emotions anymore, not understanding why I can oscillate between happiness, contentment, sadness, numbness, and depression seemingly at [someone's] will (because it sure isn't my own choice).

"I feel safe in the darkness..."

There's something about the stillness of the night that brings me back here every time. It's something I just don't think I'll ever understand.

Go2Sleep ...

Another night, another episode of me fearing sleep and the morning that comes after it. Either I'm a glutton for punishment, or I really just feel like the summer rain outside is the perfect soundtrack to the pictures in my mind.

I wonder if she's thought about me today. I wonder what she dreams about.

Truly, the monotony and lack of income that accompanies being unemployed is beginning to wear on me. It's been a month since I've taken the bar, and I'm anxious to move to the next step. Granted, if laying low, exploring a new city, and generally being carefree paid $40k annually, I'd be straight. But since it doesn't, it really just gives me more time to think and reflect on the shrinkage occurring in my bank account. On a day when I learned the unemployment rate in Detroit climbed to almost 30%, the awareness of my financial situation hit even closer to home.

If there's no sense in crying over spilled milk, I guess it makes even less sense to cry if there's no milk to spill in the first damn place...

All there is to do is for me to stay up all hours of the night.
Thinking.
About everything.
And nothing, at the same time.

Funny how this bed wasn't so lonely not too long ago. I was comfortable in your arms. Safe. Maybe too comfortable? Who can ever say. But I can't deny what felt good to me.

It's the return of the brooding side of me. The pensive side that never knows quite what to do or who to be. The side that doesn't know if it wants to collapse and pass out or grab a drink and sit under the stars. The one that has no idea if it's better to be alone or in the company of someone who knows when to speak and when to be silent. The one who knows writer's block and thinker's lament.

The one who hears thunder now but knows he needs to get his ass in gear as soon as the sun comes up. But for now it's just me and the beat tapes until something tells me what to do...

Sweet dreams.

Jackie Blue ...

On a little bit of a downturn ... trying to right the ship.

Pardon me.

Helter Skelter ...

you make me feel like letting loose some
haunting melody hummed by the voices inside my head,
as if you're ready to listen.

mounds of balled-up future memories reek of stale scents
while piled in the pit of my empty stomach.
a constant, curdling reminder of nothing.

if you could see the world that i see behind my dancing eyelids
at night, there would be no need for me to live out our
understanding in a world of make-believe.

you would just know.

it's too dark in here.
the whispers echo; the pictures move.
the wind won't cease slamming the screen door,
creaking - forever creaking.

don't leave me alone.
please, just turn on the light...

Light My Fire ...

The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire...

I'm back, and supposedly better than ever. School is done. The move to Maryland is done. The bar is done. And now the hunt is on for enlightenment through employment.

Or something like that.

I've picked up a new book, "Riders on the Storm" by Doors' drummer John Densmore. I became intrigued by/infatuated with The Doors a couple of months ago when I caught the Oliver Stone biopic on TV in the midst of one of the mid-summer moves I was a part of. Seeing it on TV, of course, prompted me to listen to as much Doors music as I can, buy the film on eBay, and fall into the mythology that is Jim Morrison. I have a thing for rockers who flame out and the method behind their madness - Jimi, Jim, the Crue, etc. It excites and intrigues me. The stories are so good they can't even be made up.

Next up: "Hammer of the Gods," the supposedly best-written biography of Led Zeppelin.

In the meantime, I'm in a state of flux. I won't know the results of the bar for three months, and waiting clearly doesn't pay the bills. My problem is that I have a bit of an elitist complex. For the longest, I've been determined to get a job on my own terms .. doing what I want to do. Problem is, for the longest, I haven't been able to fully describe what I want to do. In my head, there's at least the semblence of a rubric. Translating that rubric into a full-on, full-time position has become increasingly difficult. But because I don't feel as though I either want to or will settle for anything that does not advance me toward my goal. In some ways, I hate the fact that I'm so dead-set on not "lowering myself" [a relative term of art .. positions that I've considered aren't necessarily "lower," they're just unrelated to anything of interest to me]. When I think about it, though, it's really all about me not hating my job. I made a silent vow to myself that I would never be stuck in a position where I absolutely abhor what I do. Sure, everyone says that. And yet and still, everyone ends up in that one job where they spend 93% of the time staring at the clock, and 6 of the remaining 7% convinced that the clock is broken because it hasn't advanced past 3:53pm.

No. No. F^ck that. No.

But as a job market entrant in the midst/on the back end of the worst recession we've seen in over half-a-century, I have no right to be so snobbish - especially considering attorneys have been hit much harder than most people think we have as a result of this mess. Happiness doesn't necessarily pay the bills in the same way joblessness doesn't. People used to scoff when I explained to them that I didn't really want to practice law, and that I wasn't trying to work at some huge law firm. "I don't want to sell my soul to pay my loans," I said. "I'd sell my soul for six figures," they'd flippantly respond. And now I sit at the crossroads. Tomorrow, I'm back to searching, looking, applying [or at least considering it] ..

But, in short, how much is my happiness worth?

Make the Road by Walking ...

i hope in the coming months
i don't forget about the things
the people
the feelings that keep me going.
the moments lost in time
that may elude the trappings of my
inner-mind's memory in favor of
agency,
corporations,
criminal law and contractual obligations.

i hope i don't lose you.

i need all of the simple touches of freedom i can find.
each lap at her breast,
every inch of her shade.
i need to remain calmly vigilant -
aware of the change in things.
the change in me.

periodically i come back to this place
and reinvent myself
stroke by stroke.
but if somehow i lose my way
don't be surprised to see me
wandering, wearied,
following the moon back to the shore.

There's No Home For You Here ...

I've moved.

Updates to come. Soon. Eventually. I think.

Jump Rope ...

is it wrong for me
to hope that when you see me
you lose it inside?

but damn: when you wear
that shirt with those jeans i just
can't help but think back...

mem'ries are two-edge:
those thoughts i want to sting you
do me the same way.

all i can say is
if you walk by this window
one more time, i swear...

Chronology ...

all i want to know
is if your heart skips a beat
when my text comes though.

all you need to know
is mine stops all together
while you're still typing.

Haunted ...

each night i want to
say i love you, i pass out
counting syllables.

remember the time
we laughed and laughed at nothing?
symphony of sound.

when i fall asleep
i see your smile after
"sweet dreams," good night kiss.

i shouldn't miss her,
but every so often she seizes control of my thoughts and
fixes them squarely on her skin tone.
i saw her twin today.
i had to shake myself awake to avoid the
utter indignation that arises when you
brush against the wrong shoulder or
try to stroke the wrong cheek.
heaven forbid i boldly wrap my arms
around her waist and whisper against the
side of her neck...
but i was close.

some days,
it takes every fiber of my being
to stare at the phone for six extra minutes
in lieu of pressing the pattern
that magically still leads me to her
without fail after all this time.

my sheets still speak her name
which is funny
because last night...

Love, Lotus ...

it took me three long hot summers
to finally look her in the
temple and whisper the melodies
of a love yet lost tenderly
against her earlobes;
to speak
accented baritone memories
into her throat;
to fill her chest with
the breath of longing, wanton
lyrical odes to the life we were destined
to lead;
my magnum opus.

my modus operandi: to become the
opposite of her father;
the least i could do,
every time she would arch her back
in response to my ego teasing
her sanctum,
was to draw for her an alternate
reality -
each stroke changing history.

it was her choice
to call me daddy.

her kisses tell me the secrets
her eyes conceal.
i wish i could slay the ghosts
that haunt her dreams,
that cause her dead stares, her
silent cries.

[i wish i wasn't one.]

Simple Things ...

"Thank u for being my live, always open journal."

you're welcome. :*

---

too excited to sleep? thursday marks my last day of school. period. after 20 years...this is it. 3 years of law school coming unceremoniously to an end at 3:20pm. sure, still have 2 exams and 2 papers to complete but...damn.

"tomorrow" sure got here quick.

Falling From The Sky ...

i forgot what it felt like
for you to whisper stirred
echoes onto my eardrums:

a mix of every language
live and dead,
pulling into focus
the story of your coming birth
that baba told to the Trenchtown winds
one burning summer
until the rains came.

[i wonder if you can hear me, too.]

Floating Soul (Peace) ...

she puts me in
another world.
melodic tempo, mixed rhythm...
psychadelia.
off-beat like the flower in her hair,
or the tattoo on her hip.
outer space serenity molded against
pounding drums and
indecipherable screams.
the quiet of her dreams
shattered by the thud of
double bass -
a compliment to her heartbeat.

she cries in me a sea of
rainbowed tears, each kissed with the
rays of Jupiter and alive
with the fire of a thousand falling stars.
behind her eyes rest
a thousand more;
she exhales their stories,
transcribed in songs written
in the blood of martyrs on the
shoulders of giants.

and i listen.
the offspring of gypsies
and willow dust,
a reminder of how things used to be.
she found herself in the
veins of the aqueducts, in the
tremors of the third world and the
rhythm of the transatlantic breeze.
memory's familiar:
now the dam only breaks
when she wants.

i envy her translucence,
her heavy.

her heaven.

Wrong Way ...

i'm beginning to feel like i've been putting the faith that things will get better into the wrong places. maybe placing the weight of change on the wrong shoulders. maybe this should be the new mantra:

First Day of Nowhere ...

"...all along you thought you were alive."

i don't like it when i don't like the direction things are headed. and right now, i'm not feeling where i'm going. it's not even so much where i'm going - because, in theory, that's actually pretty awesome & exciting. it's more like the "where i am right now" part that's eating me up inside. i'm uncomfortable in my own skin, unhappy with my path & direction. it's kind of killing me softly in a way.

i'm not used to seeing me self-destruct.

what i thought was a general problem of motivation and will just seems more and more like a deep rut. and in that sense, i feel trapped...the complete opposite of the feeling of freedom and flight that i should be enjoying at this stage of my career. it's just dragging me further and further down. when your response to questions about things that should be important to you is "i don't care," something isn't right.

so i find myeslf simultaneously retreating and beating myself up. increasingly frustrated, outright irate at my inability to climb out of this hole ... or, more accurately, my utter lack of desperation to pull myself out.

ever watch a man who wants to drown?

i like to like being me. scratching and clawing to get this skin off of me isn't helping that cause at all. in fact, i don't know what will. i don't know who i need to talk to, who i need to spend time with, what questiosn need to be asked of me, what answers i need to give, or what i just need to get off of my chest to make me feel more like ... like i fit in this crazy, twisted, somewhat mangled but nonetheless readable and enticing picture of a future that i've painted for myself. it's like instead of waiting for the sun to rise, i need to just find a way to walk to the wall and flip the lightswitch.

and i don't know why that's so hard for me.

so while i teter on the edge of pressing forward and retreating into my shell, i need to grab my own self by the scruff of the neck and shake the fuck out of me. this just isn't making any sense, and i don't know who can help draw me out. who used to get me out of these jams?

wait, why should that matter?
[gotta stop picturing myself in other people's shoes and put my own on.]

i've got some serious mental and emotional liberation that needs to happen. don't ask how, when, or of what. but i've got a whole lot of cobwebs to clear out before it all starts to make sense again.

Nobody's Listening ...

she lingers on my tongue like
the taste of words i forgot to say
before she was out of earshot.

drifting away,
aimlessly wandering behind my
lying eyes;
i'm pretty sure she can hear
the void
and can see her echo
in the chasm.

silent like the beating of a thousand wings
that cut through the moonlight.

she left with the tide,
bringing to bear the prophecy as told
by the gypsy woman on the shore
who refused to let me pass without
placing my palm in the tattered mess of
skin and scars she called hers.
she knew.

i knew, too.

[i forget yesterdays and
remember tomorrows where
i plan on having already been,
fresh with the knowledge that
you've already gone
while i've yet to come.]

now she lives only in that space
between nightmares and dreams;
only where i choose to dance
with her in my arms,
and count the stars in her stares.
last night i held her hand.

she sang.

---

somewhere between dreams and nightmares,
now you know where i hide.

"i feel safe in the darkness..."

LoveLine(s),DedicatedToLastFe'vrier ...

ever-present.
haunting,
looting my dreams and plundering my thoughts.
dead eyes,
porcelain smile.

[are you afraid?]

you don't deserve the
effort i put forth merely
trying to avoid
you.

[stop staring at me.]

but remember the time...?

---

your picture still makes my heart jump.
fuck.



* visit http://2dopeboyz.okayplayer.com ... sorry for jacking the image/track, but it moved me...this is the problem of cross-motivations. i was hearing/feeling one thing when i started to write, and then i made the mistake of allowing the music to let me shift gears. i need a better 'piece' to go along with this track...

February Stars ...

she puts me in
another world.
melodic tempo, mixed rhythm...
psychadelia.
off-beat like the flower in her hair,
or the tattoo that graces her hip
simply stating "slippery
when wet."

outer space serenity molded against
pounding drums and
indecipherable screams.
the quiet of her dreams
shattered by the thud of
double bass - a compliment to her heartbeat.

i met her in the mind,
a sonic embodiment of her vision
that drew me to her
and away from the bullshit
i was accustomed to...

[fuck me.. i can't even finish this..]

---

So clearly the tone of this blog has changed. It used to be my attempt at commentary - blogs are always so serious these days - but it's shifted back to what my old blog once was: a place for me to "vent," "experiment," etc. Only difference is the readership has been slightly altered. Much love to those who choose to keep up.

Expect more of the same, I suppose...

Ain't Gonna Hurt Nobody ...

reassessing my 'wants' and 'needs'.

i don't need you.

[damn that feels good to say out loud.]

fact is,
i never needed you.
i wanted you,
or so i thought,
but considering the fact that i don't care
whether or not you're harmed by my absence,
you are far from
essential.

[i don't even feel the need to tell you good-bye.]

so thanks for the
smart-ass comments and
all of the remarks;
the childish pleading coupled with
incessant bratty tantrums
expecting me to both
stand up and kowtow.

[why waste time on a princess when kings are fit for queens?]

i'm done.

---

spring cleaning.
wish it were this easy to rid myself of every
albatross.

Incoming Message ...

to the new:
your mind is something
like my very own playground and
i don't want to leave.

to the old:
each time i try to
lick my wounds and hide my scars
you open your eyes.

to the thinking:
rest your weary soul;
i promise the wandering
won't cease in your sleep.

to tomorrow:
you don't scare me so
much; you're going to come but
i'm going to win.

to you:
have you ever wished
you didn't matter so much?
i wish i still did.

to me:
don't be ashamed of
who you are, what you do, or
just how bad you want.

to tomorrow (two):
i see the future.
i see you, two, au centre
but where do i fit?

to forever:
clouds never looked so -
and the earth never felt like -
but the rains... no more.

to my love:
so pleased to meet you;
my name is akin to i've
been waiting to breathe...

to the elders:
you gave me the words
to express how i feel, how
i taste life; thank you.

to the world:
i'm back...

Even If ...

how far are you willing to go
for your dream?

what would you be willing to do to make sure that your dream comes to be? whose help would you be willing to enlist? would you have the resolve, the resolution to go all out by yourself just to make it come true?

what would be your breaking point?

when would you know you were in line to make it happen? what do you believe in? what level of trust do you have in yourself to make things work? in others? how long would you hesitate before you took that first step onto the open water?

of what do you dream?
is it in technicolor?

are you dreaming right now?

Bullet Train ...

man the fuck up.

i keep watching people pass me by.

i gotta get organized. make moves. get it together.

i got things to do.

catch up.

Separate/Together ...

i had a revelation today
that the only way i'm ever going to be
someone i'm proud of
is if i take pride in myself.

[what?]

that's right.
pride begets pride,
and in order to do that
i need to have a sit-down with myself
all of my selves
and let them hash out their differences.

the writer
the activist
the scholar
the lawyer
the healer
the patient
the son
the brother
the friend
the man

they all need to meet,
maybe over coffee,
and determine what is it about them all
that makes them able to share one body.
they might even
let me know
that they're not alone.
there could be more.

the results might astound you...

---

15 (now 16) posts in the month of March. i'm impressed with myself. it's a step in the right direction when it comes to taking this writing thing seriously. though, after looking back, this is nothing..nothing like the pace, length and depth of posts i used to make years ago. my goodness. i was a totally different person. i can't even fathom how i was able to wrap my mind around some of the things i was talking about, and i can't imagine my mind being as busy as it was - able to focus on all of the things that were going on inside of it. i mean i could drone on and on and on about ... any and everything. i'm not sure if that's the goal now, or if i'm just in awe of what i was once able to do.

in any event, it feels good to write again.

---

my blog is black. it looks so dark in comparison to others. i was going to change it but there's something about it that i really like. love the way almost all colors jump against a black background.

black makes things better.

i was going to go into my whole 'punisher' motif, but i'm not sure if i want to anymore. i watched punisher: war zone the other day, which got me to thinking about why i adopted this symbol in the first place (as you can see by the display image and my t-shirt to the left).

[to be fair, i didn't just take it from the movies. i began thinking of it as a representation of myself back in the comic book days. then when i watched the tortured anti-hero in the thomas jane theatrical version, i liked it even more.]

just know this: i'm not violent; i'm not out for retribution; and my entire family didn't die some sort of horrible death. to me, the punisher is representative of internal struggle - constantly trying to do good, though sometimes through addition-by-subtraction - and redemption. i've struggled for some time. maybe the struggles are self-imposed, and maybe they're not, but i've definitely gone/put myself through it. and while i need help, and sometimes get it, i prefer to go it alone. i'm not always good, i'm not always right, and i don't always get caught, but i'm out to make a way.

i will make a way. and i will be redeemed. it's not so much that i'm punishing other people, but i've punished myself ... and i need to fix it.

rudimentary, i know, but the choice is far more complex than liking the logo...

---

gotta be on it this week. lots to do. need to start imposing my own deadlines. don't know if i'm disciplined enough. but i'm tired of watching the weeks go by. it's april. i have 2 months until my next major change and i am in no way, shape, or form in position for it to happen. can't just wait until things happen to me. can't catch a baseball if your mitt's at your side. really can't catch it if your mitt's not even on your hand.

i always fall back on one of my favorite album intros in times like this:

Spinning complacently in the darkness,
covered and blinded by a blanket of little lives,
false security has lulled the madness of this world into a slumber.
Wake up!
An eye is upon you,
staring straight down and keenly through,
seeing all that you are and everything that you can never be.
Yes, an eye is upon you, an eye ready to blink.
So face forward,
with arms wide open and mind reeling.
Your future has arrived...

Are you ready to go?

well...
am i?

Stay Cool ...

i'm having a moment.

a
shut-the-fuck-up
let-me-breathe
calm-yourself
hush
moment.

a
this-is-not-how-
i-envisioned-things-
so-wait-
up
moment.

a
stuck-in-time
moment
where nothing seems to make sense
and everything moves too fast.

[blow my doors off.]

a
where-did-you-come-from
moment.
and
i'm in the mood
to disappear.

[so much to do, so little time.
so easily sidetracked.]

i'm not the same
as i was
when you think
i met you
yesterday.
tomorrow
will prove
that today
is real.

now,
if you'll excuse me...

---

i feel like falling back. like crawling into a shell. like i need to step back from every situation, re-evaluate my approach. like i need to sit on a stool and listen to my corner. probe for openings, keep my hands up, stay on the move, play the angles, and when the time is right...

boom.

much to do. i'm trying to engage a bunch of different aspects of self to make it happen, too. i need all of me, and we all need to be on the same page. i almost need to fall back - things are getting too hot on a number of fronts, and in order to keep everything in check, i almost feel like i should just disappear.

temporarily, of course, and not in a bad way.

"wanna get away?"

but it's pretty hard to do that when you're needed. wanted. desired. just trying to keep all parties at the table pleased. keeping those water glasses filled without allowing the table to tip...

excuse me.
someone else just ordered a drink.

Left Behind ...

I've known faces that have disappeared in time
Find me wrapped in glass and slowly soaked in lime
All my friends have pictures made to make you cry
I've seen this and wondered what I've done to
Calcify...

(I ignore you)
As I close my eyes, I feel it all slipping away
(I come toward you)
We all got left behind, we let it all slip away ...
- Slipknot, "Left Behind"

---

one of many photo essays about my city...

Detroit's Beautiful, Horrible Decline.

there's another i saw recently (a trend?), but i can't find it. i'll keep looking.

Seeing Sounds ...

This must be what it's like ... maybe?



Or this?

Like A Stone ...

pump-faking.

i really wanted to write tonight, too. just can't seem to get the words organized. or out. or formed.
guess i'll see if i can wait them out.

i got all night.

---

In the mean time...

You Should Be Here ...

'cause i don't like being lonely.

Nice Girl, Wrong Place ...

you never cease to
tie my tongue in knots
no matter how many times i map out
exactly what i want to say
when you call.

[never.]

though for three years, our conversations were periods of silence book-ended with "guess what happened to me today."
now
silence makes me wonder if you're thinking what i'm thinking
or worse
if you're regretting ever picking up the phone
in the first place.
i'm trapped.
U-n-I aren't what we was or were.

[i know that.]

but when you say i'll always have a piece of your heart
it sounds like
the way an immature lover
would promise her premature beau that
at age 13
she'll be his forever.
that scares me.
[we used to be in love. but i kind of changed that. so what do i really deserve?
and all these nights that i dream of loving your body the way i used to really don't mean much of anything anymore. i know that, too. but i did wake up kissing my pillow.]

[no, really. i did.]

i'm sorry that things are coming along so slowly.
i'm sorry that i can't be who i said i would.
fuck, i'm sorry i can't say this to your face.
not yet.
maybe next time will be better.

[call me. i miss your laughter.]

---

if anyone can make me crack i swear it's her. our book is closed. well, closed might be too finite, too final. it's more like ... dog-eared, on the second-to-last page. i forced out of myself the difficult words that i didn't think i could say, and - worse - i didn't say them how i wanted to [i told you she can crack me]. her reaction was surprise, mixed with disbelief .. that cold, "i got you, nigga" kind of disbelief that i used to hate. excited, sure. and i know she wants the best. but i couldn't even deliver my own news on my own terms or with any sense of certainty, confidence, or clarity.

even the truth feels like a lie.

[again. isn't that where the breakdown happened the first fucking time?]

will i ever learn how to handle you?

The Oath ...

if i could blog the week away instead of waiting for you in my inbox, i would.
maybe i will.

---

are you waiting for me?
fuck.
[i hate having difficult conversations.]

['cause, see, i was secretly waiting for you, too, but somehow when i was stuck in yesterday trying to plan tomorrow, all i could see was the opposite of you .. mocking me from the other side of the bed.]

[i hated that.]

---

6:54pm

"tick-
tock,
tick-
tock;"
someone shoot
that infernal clock.

Zoning In My Dome ...

sometimes words, they just get in the way ...

k.i.s.s.
stop bullshitting and k/i/s/s.
it's just that easy.
now, there's only the small matter of turning k.i.s.s. into kiss....a wholly different concept.
like the difference between 1.000 and 1000.
i suppose a shift is in order.

[a self-imposed overdose on amp energy drinks coupled with an utter lack of sleep, a disdain for the coming week, an inability to focus on the task at hand, and an acute case of attention deficit disorder has brought this on...so i suppose you have all of the above to thank for my writing ...my randomness.]

i can't even categorize what's going on.
so i won't.

---

i think i'm trying to cope with this concept of coming back down from what was an amazing week off, largely free of the things that i've been putting up with and the lackluster people that have crept into my life, and having to get back to the fake smiles and pretentiousness that has become my 9:30-5 three day-a-week pseudo-grind. spring break was a hell of a time for introspection, in addition to just plain old fun. I made it my goal to do something, anything, every day... something that would allow me to enjoy my time in this city a little bit more than i may have previously. and it worked...:

• friday was the normal 2+ hours hooping, and relaxing for the remainder of the day;
• saturday i collected some friends and went to watch the US get their asses handed to them by puerto rico in the world baseball classic ... we got our revenge, but it was no fun being mocked by a bunch of territorians...;
• sunday i was invited to the ca championship at doral, so in a moment of "when else am i going to ever do this," i decided to go watch the final round of a professional golf tournament. i must say that standing 10 feet behind Tiger as he teed off at the 17th hole goes down as one of my all-time sports memories;
• monday was spent walking south beach;
• tuesday included laying on south beach with friends, in addition to st. patrick's day drunkeness and shenanigans;
• wednesday was largely spent recovering, and attempting to prepare for the weekend;
• thursday began with food, drink, and ncaa basketball downtown, followed by time spent gathering from the airport my arriving friends who were coming to spend the weekend with me;
• friday and saturday were a blur... a whirlwind of motion and hilarity, mostly spent in miami beach day and night;
• and today, an extension of last night since i returned my friends to the airport directly from the club at 5am, has been spent catching up academically for tuesday .. to little avail .. and has left me right here...

so now it's 2am on monday morning. dave hollister's "my favorite girl" thumping in my ear candy headphones. mind reeling, trying to compartmentalize thoughts, emotions, memories. hearing ghosts of the past.

[clearly i'm just cruising around on some sophisticated-yet-simple form of autopilot. my mind and body are rarely on the same schedule, and this night is no different in that sense. the artificial energy has distorted my equilibrium.]

[imagine listening to an LP on the record player ... and not noticing when the music stops; all you hear is the pop of the vinyl, caused by the needle running out of grooves.]

[there's nothing left, but my record just keeps spinning...]

---

i hate songs that get me at the first note. amerie's all i have is and always was a dope album, one of my favorites in my r & b collection. but i can't listen to "nothing like loving you". i just can't. it's already hard to listen to most of the album as it is, because i can remember the last time it was in heavy rotation..constant repeat..and who it pertains to. but that song in particular - the way it comes in - makes my heart sink.

[for other examples of the same phenomenon, see, e.g., jagged edge's "promise," amel larrieux's "make me whole," and - though not so much anymore - ashanti's "movies".]

---

i feel my high coming down.
time to sleep to the rhythm of
city lights.

To Whom It May Concern ...

Ever wonder where the title of this blog came from?

Schism ...

Trying to reconcile two selves: the artist v. the professional.

One's esoteric; the other, grounded.

Why does this have to be a 'versus' battle? Can't I be both?

The View from the Afternoon ...

Another throwback, written when I believed my uncle's M.D. was going to take his life:

That bitch is in the room.
She encircles the
area like a
veil of
uncertainty wrapped in
maniacal laughter
so thick that
breathing her feels like
snorting soup.

She
so insidious
unravels her scroll
whilst the foul
stench of
living
death
billows out like
souls
from smoked-out tenements
razed in hopes of
reaching heaven
by way of fire.

Obsidian eyes
devoid of
breath
navigate deftly
souls of
unbelievers
not knowing how one
decrepit
beautiful seductress
drove destiny's chariot
and
held Hell's key.

Slight fingers
white as
the ash of
martyrs
point
pull
prove too much
for the wail
of the weak
wishing to
begin anew.

You can
taste
her bitter
defiant
indifference
in the soot
of the hole
she burns
in your eyes.

That bitch
always wins.

Them Nights ...

A throwback from '05:

I'm a sucker for sun-dresses
blowing in the wind of a hundred-degree summer breeze
showing off ray-kissed pecan thighs
while you twirl for me,
like you did your father.

(Mama said there'd be days like this.)

Wet with the combined sweat and tears
of a long night yet to come;
anticipating the past,
you feel like heaven to me
before I even touch you
but after I decide never to let go.

(The moon stands still for us.)

I slept soundly last night
breathing in each of your curls
and exhaling your smile.
Twenty fingers and twenty toes so invariably intertwined
that had God Himself decided to steal one of us in the darkness
He'd have given up and moved on down the list.

(That's how it should be.)

Searching for my soul I found you;
the perfect imperfect reflection of what I wanted to be
without knowing what that was.
Not knowing how or why
when, where, or who,
I'm home.

(There's no place like it.)

I hope to never leave this haze
created by the countless times I have given up on the world
only to get drunk off you.
Left senseless
right before me
love materializes in exactly your shape and size.

(I'm a sucker for a sun-dress.)

Give It To Me Right ...

Am I looking for the wrong kind of woman?

Am I just looking?

Hmm...

Deadly Habitz ...

I remember when she told me it was mine.

And I remember her saying she thought hers was the only one I needed.

Wasn't it?

The fuck is wrong with me?

'D' Is For Dangerous ...

I started this post a few days ago, but never got around to finishing it. I think I was a bit uncertain as to what I felt like writing. My mind and body was in consensus that something needed to be said, but .. who ever knows what? I'm not back into "life-chronicling" like I used to, though I suppose I do [still] use twitter for that (damn that site & the applications it's spawned). It's funny because the other day when I was battling writer's block, I was considering blogging fiction just to keep my writing skills sharp. I still might surprise myself and actually do it, but no guarantees. I need to get back to getting my own personal thoughts out before I assume other characters...

Anyway, last week/weekend's guilty musical pleasure was the Arctic Monkeys. It all started with an acquaintance introducing me to their music video for "Fluorescent Adolescent." However, if you know me, you'll know that it only took about 7 seconds before I was forced to turn the video off. [If you don't know me, do yourself a favor and look up the definition of coulrophobia...and you'll understand. If you want the story as to why that applies, we can talk.] Anyway, as a result of that, I was forced to find live versions of the song and was pleasantly surprised. I quickly found more and more, until I ended up possessing both Arctic Monkeys albums, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, and Favourite Worst Nightmare. After listening to both several times over and picking out a few favorite tracks, I was thankful for having been introduced to these young folk from across the pond.

And then the musical floodgates opened.

Since then, I've spent no fewer than 2-3 hours daily browsing youtube for live performances by some of my favorite bands at some of the big-name festivals around the world (Big Day Out, Pinkpop, Rock Am Ring..even Woodstock '99). There's something about live rock performances that outdoes almost any other genre. I mean, hip hop concerts are cool and all, but there's so little room for improvisation built in to the dynamics of the show. Of course, rapper X can throw in a freestyle here and there, but for the most part you know every word, every ad-lib, every beat break... and depending on who you see and where, you're lucky to even be able to hear or understand the rhymes. But rock concerts are a little different... as are most shows with live instrumentation (so The Roots can fall into this category, too). There's just so much room for improvisation. You can see the same song performed 5 different times at 5 different venues, know the guitar solo is coming up, and be surprised and amazed at the way that the guitarist deviates just so slightly from the basic solo every single time. I love that! So, as a result, I ended up watching multiple clips of Metallica, Slipknot, Sevendust, Stone Sour, Bush, Godsmack, Megadeth, Iron Maiden, Incubus, Korn, Powerman 5000, Queens of the Stone Age, and others just do what they do. Came away with some favorites, too. For example, I'm infatuated with this performance of "Knights of Cydonia" by Muse, live from Wembly Stadium in '07. So epic. Equally epic: Metallica performing "Enter Sandman" at Rock Am Ring '08. There's something about the energy. I love watching artists, especially guitarists, get into their work. It always leads me to one of my favorite images of that instance... Jimi Hendrix playing Woodstock, eyes closed, mouth open, feeling the music. And don't even get me started on what it must feel like to perform in front of a mass of humanity singing and humming and harmonizing with a song that you wrote... jumping and bouncing and... just loving what you do.

There's nothing like it. Makes me jealous.

This is why I love music.

And this... is where I must pause... but I leave you with this:

Bridging the Gap ...

The "special primary" to determine the 2 [out of 15] candidates for the position of "interim" interim mayor in the City of Detroit (essentially, the mayor who will take over for the current interim mayor - who's only been mayor since the end of '08 - and who will hold the post from the time of the "special general election" (May 5!!!) until the general election in November/end of term in December) went down today. Results aren't in yet. Even still, I think I'm gonna be sick. I swear this process comes straight from the horse's ass.

Pray for my city.

---Update---

And with that, Ken Cockrel, Jr. and Dave Bing (yeah, that Dave Bing) have won the primary and will face off in May. Who was my preference? Of the candidates, these two might be the best choices...and I'm not the only one to think so. The lesser of fifteen evils have prevailed.

Keep praying.

Da Goodness ...

So Harlem-based-but-Cleveland-born MC/blogaholic/grinder Charles Hamilton decided to drop not one, not two, but three mixtapes in the span of 6 days. That's more tracks than some artists put out in a calendar year. Granted, when you're fighting for respect and recognition, it's important to get out there. But CtheH looks like he just does it for the love, and I'm feelin' that. His creative energy is something else.

Now, Charles has this whole Sonic the Hedgehog thing going on that I find kinda creative and intriguing. I mean, hell, I've been trying to figure out what obscure-yet-cool alter-ego I could attribute to myself for years now and I just can't seem to figure out one that sticks. Anyway, I was skimming through his main blog and ran across this ... "other" other side: Shadow. Now, in the Sonic universe, Shadow is the antithesis of Sonic in all aspects of his life. In Charles Hamilton's universe, Shadow the Hamilton is a place for him to display his poetry ... his brooding side.

Who do you think fell in love with that concept?

Back when I used to blog on the regular on another site, I developed a second blog just for that purpose. It was darker, in some senses bleaker, but completely separate from my day-to-day happenings. When it worked, I loved it. Granted I wasn't able to come up with a cool as hell alias back then, but still.

[Of course, in writing about it, I took 2 seconds to look back at that blog. I haven't written in it since January of 2007, when I was going through a very tough time with my ex-girlfriend. Pain is art, I wrote. It certainly is. I couldn't duplicate these lines if I tried. I suppose that's the benefit and purpose of having a muse: it makes you write what you couldn't consciously think of otherwise.]

In any event, listening to the third of C's mixtapes - Every Charles Hamilton Ex-Girlfriend's Worst Nightmare - got me to thinking about what if I were to write something for/about each of the women who have been in my life. Now there's some inspiration for that ass. I read the track-by-track breakdown he provided on his blog and really got to thinking about making something like that happen. I mean, from the hearts that I broke to the girls who broke mine; from the long and meaningful to the short and trivial; from the seemingly impossible to the seemingly unending, and even those that never even began. It's a very curious concept...and I just might give it a chance, if I really feel like revisiting those times in my past.

Just a thought. I just really want to put some words together. And part of me doesn't even care if they make sense anymore...

she wants me to write
and i want her to feel it:
my revolution
- 2/15/06

Hold Tight ...

I'm coming back. Don't forget about me. Clearly, twitter has taken some of my creative/quick-trigger attention. But I still live here. I will continue to live here. I'm coming back.

So just hold tight.

Set Adrift on Memory Bliss ...

Clearly I'm still not quite there. Just a few steps short. Book's not finished. Writing's not consistent. Happiness not solidified. Mind not right.

But if at first you don't succeed...

So I'm still here, still trying. Still pushing and poking and prodding so that I can further understand where I am and, more importantly, where I want to be. I've been thrown off course a bit. Effectively derailed. But I'm bouncing back. I need to get that pep back in my step; figure out what I had right a few weeks ago and get back to it. It's hard when you're dog tired, and when you're facing the monotony of a meaningless grind. Yes, meaningless. The present is past. My eyes are on the future.

And how do you face a present-past with any interest when the future is now?

But I will find my zone. I'm bound to. Even though the days tend to blend together .. particularly during the week .. I'm going to find my pace, spot, and space. A key to that is putting each 24 hour period behind me. Starting fresh, anew. Solving the problems ahead of me instead of carrying the baggage from those prior. I'm starting to do that. People have been forgotten. Memories erased. Fears tossed aside. Issues dropped. And in some ways, I feel more confident and comfortable because of it.

But something always takes me back.

The new lesson, though, is to control what I remember. Oscar Wilde once said, "A man who is master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a pleasure. I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them." It is my goal to take this to heart, and to apply them to my memories. I've spent a lot of time reminiscing in the last few days, but not all for nothing. In fact, parts of it have been extremely enjoyable. Someone provided me with this link, and I almost hit the floor. No one will ever, ever debate the fact that music is one of our most crucial links to our collective past, as well as to our individual histories. Music makes us remember. We know exactly who, what, where, and even why we were doing what we were doing when we first - or last - heard that song. We remember "our song" when we think about past relationships, good or bad. It's why we can have "period pieces," and films where the soundtrack plays just as important a role as the action on screen (see, e.g., Dead Presidents; American Gangster). Music has always paced my life. So when followed the link and I started listening to the tracks from the time when I first, officially fell in love with hip-hop, the memories began to flow.

And I loved it.

Sure, I've gone through some shit. Sure, I haven't had the best relationships and interactions, and surely the memories aren't always the best. But none of that mattered. It was all about the music. It took me places I haven't been, seen, or even thought of in 10, 12, 15 years. Every step of the journey was paved with oohs, ahhs, and "Oh my God"s. It took me back to dates, events, individuals .. not the ones that I shut out forever, but the ones that simply faded to the background. Not the ones that were forcible forgotten, but the ones that merely fell victim to my poor physical memory. That's the feeling I want to have with all of my thoughts: slay the demons, and live a life full of things to be remembered.

Use. Enjoy. Dominate.

"At the mercy of": wholly in the power of : with no way to protect oneself against. That's no way to live. No way for me to live. No way I want to live. I'm tired of losing the fight against my own mind. I'm tired of being at the whim and will of my own mental state. Losing my creativity, failing to understand my happiness. To hell with all of that. Every day is a step toward reinvention and getting to be who I want. The future is now, and I've got the keys. I'm finally driving.

Now... which way do I go?

São Paolo Nights ...

Write or sleep. The struggle continues.

It's hard for me to separate the things I hand-write every day from the things I want to post on here. When I was younger ("younger"), my online blog was my sanctuary. I housed everything there. Here, I've decided to be a little more cautious ... if only a little.

I was doing well writing once a day like I hoped for, but I did fall off at some point last week. It's still cathartic, though, and I still do try to keep my journal with me. Plus, I'm almost finished reading the companion book to my little project. It's taken longer than expected ... I know that if I sat down, I could knock out all 420 pages ... mostly because of being back in school. I'm 3/4 through, though, so it should be done by the weekend.

By the way, I'm aware that your President's Black (and your Lambo's blue [rims are, too]) ... believe it or not, my President's Black, too. Dig that! Now, can we please come up with another song/slogan? Please? Pretty please?

Anyway, look for me this weekend. I should have some (plenty?) of time to myself so that I can write and reflect on some questions that I've been asking myself (like, 'where has all of my creative energy gone?' and 'what the hell is REALLY wrong with me?'). I also plan on finishing my bar application this weekend, and continuing this streak of positivity and excitement regarding my future that I've had recently. No more pessimism and/or fear. Too much greatness to come. Serenity, clarity, sanity, calm.

More to come...

Roll On ...

Gotta love a good D-centric video. It's given me the chills ever since I saw it premiere a few months ago.

Makes me homesick every time.

Sleep To Dream ...

Hypnophobia - an abnormal fear of falling asleep.

I've always been the one who never wanted to miss anything. Not that I wanted to be in the center of it all, but I never wanted things to pass me by. I always wanted to be awake, aware, reachable, available just in case. When I was a kid, I refused to fall asleep on long car rides; I'd always stare out the window just in case I missed something cool going by. Now I'm 24, a far cry from that preschooler. My phone stays on 24/7. My ringer is always on at night just in case someone needs me. Just in case something happens. If you need me, if you want me... I'm always here.

But for the last few days, extending into last week, I've been afraid to go to sleep. I used "afraid" because I've yet to come up with a better term. I don't want to sleep. I want to fight it. I'm not scared of my dreams, or am I? ... I'm scared of tomorrow, and I don't know why. The next day ... not scared that I won't make it, but scared that I will. My friend told me it's an ill-fated attempt to preserve time, to not waste it on sleep.

A losing battle.

But I try anyway. I'd rather be reading, or writing, or talking, or with someone. Anything but sleeping. My mind keeps moving until it naturally shuts off. I haven't even been noticing myself fall asleep... I just inevitably lose the fight. What am I thinking about? Why won't I sleep?

What am I scared of?

Primal Scream ...

"If you wanna live life on your own terms
gotta be willing to crash and burn..."
- Motley Crue, Primal Scream

True. Fitting. Gotta be willing to take risks in order to get to where you want to be... where you can make the rules instead of being forced to fit someone else' mold. I'll include another quote to back it up:

"If you are dissatisfied with yourself in the scheme of things and the altar has not changed conditions, perhaps you should consider the alter. After all if anything changes, it will be through the word alter/alteration/alternative because how can you dare speak of change if you do not have an alternative?"
- Sun Ra

Felt good today. Positive, motivated; I do well when that happens. We'll see if it continues tomorrow.

More Human Than Human...

New goal:
I am going to write something every day, at least on paper. I have demons, some of which I've never met. I want to give them a chance to introduce themselves. There is no more "try," or longing "want." I will do. I started today. I'm eager to continue.

New inspiration:

Nikki Sixx, "The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star"

I've been wanting this book for a while. I bought it today (it was previously only available in hardcover, but the paperback version dropped around Christmas). I started it tonight. I wrote as I read. If it hadn't gotten so cold outside, I'd still be reading. I might go out later and continue. Written by/from the diaries of Mötley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx. I have a thing about getting into peoples' minds .. especially those with some sort of psychosis - natural or self-induced. Maybe because I have my own, and I want to see how others feel/cope/deal. Maybe.

Waxpoetics Magazine

Just grabbed issue #32 with Sly Stone on the cover. Inspirational in and of itself, but of a different sort. I'll be reading it soon.

My pen and notebook will be with me every day. I will do this. A chronicle.

Coming soon.

Sound of the City...

Crazy emotional article by famous Detroit sportswriter Mitch Albom about my city. Ridiculously emotional, actually. It brought tears to my eyes because I know exactly how he felt as he wrote it. Some things were just so clear to me...

And maybe you ask why? Maybe you ask, as I get asked all the time, "Why do you stay there? Why don't you leave?"

Maybe because we like it here. Maybe because this is what we know: snow and concrete underfoot, hardhats, soul music, lakes, hockey sticks. Maybe because we don't see just the burned-out houses; we also see the Fox Theater, the Detroit Institute of Arts, the Whitney restaurant, the riverfront that looks out to Canada. Maybe because we still have seniors who call the auto giant "Ford's", like a shop that's owned by a real human being. Maybe because some of us subscribe to Pastor Covington's words, "We are somebody because God loves us," no matter how cold the night or hard the mattress.

Maybe because when our kids finish college and take that first job in some sexy faraway city and a year later we see them back home and we ask what happened, they say, "I missed my friends and family." And we nod and say we understand.

If you have the time, read the whole thing. It sheds a lot of light on how we Detroiters see ourselves, despite how the rest of the country continually dogs us and treats us as if we're not worth much of anything. I love it.

Thanks, Mitch.

Click here to read 'The Courage of Detroit'.

An Eye Is Upon You ...

I don't do year-end wrap-ups. I attribute part of that to the fact that I have developed a pretty bad memory. Many people can look at where they were on January 1, 2008 and say, "Damn, I've come so far and changed so much." Me, I can't even remember how I spent New Years '08 [it was in Michigan ... either at home, with my mom, or somewhere else with my ex. I'm leaning toward mom's, because I remember watching Robbie Maddison's world record jump from home]. Don't get me to lying about what I "resolved to do" in 2008 that would change me or make me so different from who or what I was in 2007. I have no clue what it was. I don't even know if it worked.

All I know is that in 2008 I lost a girlfriend - long distance - to a tough relationship, a cousin - in prison - to an infected bullet wound, and another part of my mind - a significant chunk - to law school. If that's all I can care to remember, then so be it.

So what does 2009 bring? A lot, and not just because I sat up on New Year's Eve and made myself believe it. I graduate law school in May and begin preparing for the bar immediately after. In July, I take the exam. Soon thereafter, or shortly before, I'm moving almost blindly ... again ... to start fresh in a new city and new state. I'll be going in on the purchase of a new place to live - no more renting. I'll have a new car [as my baby is slowly dying], a new job, and new experiences to be had. And all of this will happen before I turn 25 in September. Who knows what happens after that. So by design, 2009 is about to have ridiculous implications on the rest of my life; it's its own new beginning, whether I like it or not.

I celebrated the New Year alone, for the first time ever. My options were limited: a lack of funds coupled with a gimpy vehicle and a handful of "friends" close by can force such a happening. But I wasn't hurt by that. I watched The Wrestler [I was right: amazing movie]. I toasted myself with a couple of German imports, watched Rhys Millen and Robbie Maddison's New Year's feats on ESPN, saw the ball drop, listened to the fireworks in the parking lot, and eventually went to sleep. Business as usual. No need to be out, no need to be drunk attempting to forget the night or the day or the year that passed. My celebration was internal, and I think it was for good reason.

2009 is about me in a lot of ways. I'm the one who's going to be at the mercy of ... or, conversely, at the wheel of ... all of those changes that are to come. I'm the one who's going to have to deal with the complications - or windfalls - that come at their behest. I'm the one who's got to see and be me at the end of the day.

I'm the one who has to ensure my own happiness.

So maybe bringing in '09 alone was a harbinger of things to come: relying on others less; being more comfortable with myself. Confidence. Clarity. More of what I want, less of what others demand. I've come a long way, even if I can't remember exactly where I started. But whether you start from the pole or the back row, the goal is to finish at the top of the podium. In the coming days, more and more people will be throwing lame slogans out about this new year, and more folks will be tossing out resolutions and goals that have grown stale from years of inaction ["change occurs when it is too painful to stay the same"]. But what happens when "new" stares you in the face, whether you like it or not? What do you do when you don't have the chance to turn down life as it comes, but rather are forced to adapt or be left behind? What happens when you can no longer hide?

2009 belongs to me. Not because I say so, but because life has led me here. I have to be ready for the challenge. I've been ahead of the curve for so long. If I miss now, I'll be quick to get left behind. This is my genesis. My chance to start anew, thanks to circumstance.

Ready?

Go.