Saturday, February 28, 2004

I figured tonight the most intelligent thing I can say is nothing. Let the blank screen speak for itself. There will be no red letters on this one though. There will be no different shades of crimson. There will only be crimson regret pouring down and dripping into the carpet. Often I get caught up the moment and suffer for it later. Tonight though no moment for me. No deep breath and remembering. I do not even get a brief quote in my mind. All I have is the white canvas staring at me laughing. If I do nothing more in my life I hope that I can at least fill that canvas with a picture. I just hope the picture is not full of sorrow and anger.

Friday, February 27, 2004

So I have been sitting here staring at this blank screen wondering what should I put on it. What words should I use to paint a vivid picture? These moments I fear the most.

The blank canvas stared back at him. So far it has thwarted his attempts to pull anything out of it. The white blurs of nothing piercing his vision and burning into his mind. Something was their inside that needed to come out and he wanted to put it there but some reason it would not let go. Deep inside it held onto his heart preventing him from throwing it out onto the white canvas. Another hour passes by as he tried to study it from a different angle. A glass of wine in one hand while a paintbrush in the other. A quick vision of blues filled his mind for a moment as inspiration struck. The glass forgotten and dropped onto the floor. The shattering of glass broke the moment as again he was left sitting there with nothing. The feeling of wine soaking into his socks did not help his concentration either. Reaching down to gets some of the glass his mind still focused on the blank white laughing void in front of him. Anger fills him quickly as he keep trying to think of something to put to paint. His hand slips on some wine and he stabs his palm with a piece of glass. The pain reaches his mind and he throws his hand out in anger. As if time slowed downs a small drop of blood flies out and lands on the canvas. Creating a single red dot in the middle of the white void. The laughing stops and suddenly he saw his masterpiece. Pulling out the piece of glass he dipped his brush into the blood. A few quick strokes and a picture started to emerge. A vision filled his mind. Then the blood stopped coming out of his hand. He had a start why did it have to stop now. Anger again fills him as he seeks a way to continue with his work. A quick thought and he grabs the shard of glass and uses it to open up another cut. More blood flowing and the painting resumes. After he gets halfway done the blood stops again. This time determined to make a big enough cut to finish the job he cuts a long and deep line into his arm. Working quickly without regard to himself he continues. Weakness fills his body but he keeps pushing himself. Then after some time the painting is finished. A design that shows both love and hate mixed together. Different shades of red as the blood that dried and has more applied took on a different shade. A few spots of white canvas peered back underneath the dried anger. He stood back for a moment to admire his work and he turned to go announce to the world his work of art. As he took a step he jabbed a piece of glass in his foot and fell backwards. Hitting his head on the chair he falls limply to the floor. The wine starting to mix with some more blood as the white canvas stared back laughing.

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

I had a dream the other night. It was quite weird. I woke up on a Greyhound bus listening to a music CD I had brought along. Across my lap was sitting Steven King's The stand. It was one of the many times I had read that book. I looked over to the side of my seat and saw the road passing me by quickly. We were heading west on interstate 80. Cars going by and fading into the distance as we passed them. I remember this scene perfectly. I had lived through it several years ago. Except this time I did not know it was a dream. I thought the first time I lived through it was a dream. The long ride back after getting hurt. The moments of silence that I had to exist in. The moments of pain that dulled the rest of my senses until I felt nothing at all. Even the pain disappeared as my body rejected everything it felt. The sitting there head leaning against the window. The feel of the worn out pages in my hand. Remember the night I read it outside in a park as I waited for her to return. Suddenly as I lay my head there the thought that everything was just a dream. I remembered a life somewhere else. I remember parts of the dream that I had. I was in another town working and hanging with friends. I was happy and had filled my life with so many things. I was everything that I am now but back then it was a dream. During this dream though I woke up. Suddenly the past 4 years of my life I realized was just a dream. I am again 20 and riding a bus back to my home town in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly the hurt fills me up again as I realize that I lost someone I cared for and now was heading back to my tomb. The dream faded quickly as I stared out of the window watching corn fly by. Why did this happen? I try to review the past few days events to see if there was something I did wrong. The details got fuzzier and fuzzier by the minute. I could not remember anything at all except the look of her face as she got the call. The feeling of holding her in my arms before she left. The feeling of the book as I held it in my hands while I waited for her. The empty hurt inside as I worried that she was in trouble. So I dreamed that I woke up the other night. I dreamed my life for the past few years was just another dream that I had. I dreamed the hurt and anger that has grew over the events in the past few years was just a bad dream. I was placed again at the moment I had been previously where I made a promise to myself. The promise that if I was not happy by 21 I would not suffer any longer. The promise that I would not keep living in pain. The promise I said I would keep because I could not take 40 years of this happening again and again. I dreamed I made that promise again to myself. Full of conviction I stared outside that window watching the world pass me by. Then I woke up in a warm bed in present day. I woke up laying on my side feeling the pain in my arms. The dull ache from cuts that have not healed. The many lines of red that crisscross back and forth on my arms. I remember the pain and the unforgiving silence. I remember the feeling of the window against my forehead. I remember my promise I made to myself and I know why I did not keep it. As I woke up and got ready to begin my day I pondered if I had made a mistake. As I woke up to begin my day I ponder if this was a dream of happiness I was having. If this was the happiest I can be in a dream then perhaps it was not worth it in the end. When will I wake up again next?

Thursday, February 19, 2004

It has been a long time since I listened to this CD. I often avoid it because I know what it will bring when I play it. Some people avoid playing contact sports because they know they will get hurt. I avoid playing it because I know it will bring back the hurt. So in the theme of Tori Amos's CD Little Earthquakes here is something fictional but strikes close to home.

The door closed and the music inside the car ceased to invade my mind. I closed the door to her car but also I feel that I closed it to our friendship. It was another day that we went out for lunch and talked afterwards. Another day that ended up with us kissing exploring a part of the friendship we never tried to pursue. This time it was forbidden though. She had been dating this guy for a while. I should have saw it coming. I should have known that she would have to choose between him and me. The thought that she would choose him hurts but I was dealing with it in my own way. Now after that session we decided we would not talk about it so that it would remain a good memory. To let the hurt and guilt fill the silence that will enclose us after we part. To let the doubt and questions keep our minds busy while we go on with our lives. When is she going to make up her mind? Perhaps she already has and I am just something she does out of pity. I think that hurts the most. The thought that she only keeps me around or visits because of pity. I do not want her pity. I want her to love me, as I love her. I do not wish to share her though with some other guy. So I stood there watching her drive off. She said she would call me in a few days. Somehow I doubt that. Already the doubt and guilt fill my mind. What hurt did I cause her? How does she fill now that she has cheated on her boyfriend? How will she deal with the guilt that I have now helped cause? I imagine it will be a hard week for her. I doubt I will get the call perhaps I shall give her some time. How long would be right though. All these thoughts filling my mind as I walk back into my house and go to my room. I put on some music to listen to while surfing the web. A moment later I pulled up an old document that I read once in a while. It was some of her old letters to me. The friendship we once had the memories that keep me wanting her now. I read through the letters and remember a day so long ago. The one where I found out that she was dating this guy. I knew him a bit and knew his personality. Perhaps he and I were so alike and that is why I disliked him. Perhaps I just saw a side of him that she did not. Either way I remember the long conversations we had over coffee. I remember the times afterwards where she told me about the problems they had. I remember so much when it comes to trying to make myself feel depressed. The track changes and little earthquakes comes up. The slow lyrics and beating with the overall theme was pulling me down further. Hearing this I reach on my desk for my pocketknife. Pain filling up my ears and my heart. Memories of sweet moments filling my mind as a knife fill my hand. Soon more pain fills my body as blood runs down my arm. More pain filling my heart as blood fills my hand. Watching it seep slowly into a small pool as I close my eyes to help the music sink deeper into my psyche. The track ends and the pain still lingers. The blood dries and the body responds in its own way to the pain. Soon rapid but temporary relief follows. The moment is lost but is almost revelatory as my mind quickly clears. I whip out some cleaning pads and Band-Aids to cover them up. Quickly rub some healing solution to prevent scarring and prevent infection. The songs have ended and the silence was filled. Still I am left to ponder my next step. Perhaps I will be forced to do nothing. As hard as it is I think she just needs time. I also need time to remember she choose him not me.

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Here is a bit more as I try to write something different to see how it comes out. Figured I would attempt to write about a car. Also trying to continue a bit of the friend theme.

Tree’s fly by quickly as the scenery slowly turns into a blur. The motor growls in delight as it is pushed further and further on this lone mountain road. Tight corners and the sound of squealing tires fill the air. Animals run from the sound and the smell as he passes them by. Many times he has driven this road and other roads. The past few weeks turned into months and those began to blur together like the trees he passed by. When he first got the car he made a promise to never drive when drinking to his mother. He also made a promise to himself to never drive angry. To his car he promised to always take care of it. His car promised him that it would respond to his commands quickly. A finely tuned machine that put out more horsepower than it should. A slight hiss in the air as he gave it some more juice. He did the mod a few weeks ago and now feeds his hungry machine two kinds of gas. The resulting growl and power pushed him back into his seat with a smile on his face. Another corner came quickly and disappeared in his mirror as he navigated it with a few flicks of his wrist. His best friend and his love combined into one. The long stretch of highway came up. He drove an hour out to find this place. Four miles of lone highway out in the middle of nowhere. Absolute silence and privacy. No one ever came out here these days. So it made a good place to push his friend a little further. Keep testing the limits was his motto and he lived it fully. A sudden stop and smell of burnt rubber. Two thin tire marks left to show he was there as his car stops in the middle of the road. Dropping the gear and revving the motor further he waited till it reached 2000 and then dropped the gear in. A jolt and squeal as the car jumped forward the front end trying to get off the ground while the rear pushed it forward with quickening pace. A quick press of the pedal and another short throw for the gear to shift and more squealing resulted. When it calmed down a bit the hiss of the gas being released can be heard from the passenger seat. Then when it hit 5000 RPM’s he threw the gear again and felt it pull him back as he gained more speed. One more throw as he approached 100 miles per hour and he felt something slip. He quickly let go of the gas and pulled back the gear trying to shift down and reduce some speed. The car responded quickly and he pressed his brakes a little to slow down further. The car was still going too fast and he pressed the brakes in too far. The man behind the machine failed. A small error in judgement and the car lost control. It slides a bit before it went off the side of the road. The sharp incline on the shoulder causes the car to start to roll. Down it went rolling into a field as the ground tore off bits of it each time. The wing on the rear was the first to go. Then the mirrors on the side. It lay there in the field suddenly silent. He woke up hearing nothing but the slight hiss from the tank beside him. It was still pumping that mixture into the engine. His seatbelt came loose quickly as he struggled to get out of the car. Crawling away quickly he go out to the road in time to get a good view as the car exploded. He failed his friend by reacting prematurely. He failed his love by not being more careful. Now he failed himself, as he has to walk back home.
I hate losing friends. Even the thought of never speaking to them brings me sadness. When I go out and make a friend I somehow seem to expect that to last for life. The core group of friends that I have I have had for several years. These people have known me for half my life in some cases. The though of never speaking to one of them again is almost unbearable. The fact that I am a creature of habit makes this even more difficult to do. So I sit here looking at you and wonder how can I ever truly let go. I know your going somewhere that I cannot follow but I never liked saying goodbye. I also know that as I speak these words to you that you’re not listening. Your mind and attention elsewhere. Perhaps you’re pondering flying on a cloud or something like that. I know your not hear when I am speaking to you but I feel this must be said. I make friends for life. I do everything in my power to keep those friends nearby if I can. I never like losing a friend or saying goodbye to one. I just want you to know that you are still my friend and I wish you a safe journey. I doubt I will ever see you again in this lifetime. I hope that when I die I will be able to spend some time with you in a heavenly coffee shop. You’re not listening to me though. I can understand how my words will just pass through you. I hope you can understand that no matter what I will still come and talk to you even though you’re not going to pay attention. Just the though of speaking to your memory will suffice enough for me. It will keep me from the pain I know will come once I realize I will never get to share a milkshake with you again. It will keep me from clawing at the ground that will now contain you. I won’t bring you flowers for that would be an admittance of your death. I will not cry at your funeral because that will also show I understand you’re gone. I will come here and chat because the though of you moving away or ignoring me is better than the fact that your now dead. So until next Sunday when we will do coffee at noon I wish you the best.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

So the previous first person account was not what has happened to me personally. Well some of it has but not the rain. Sadly it was never really cold and rainy where I lived. It would reflected the mood of those times though. I hate today.
I never liked today. In the past the day has never brought me good luck. This year it came up on me quickly and was met with a flood of memories. To sit quietly and suddenly be thrust into the emotions I thought long since gone. To sit and remember a day like it was just a few days ago. I know the years have gone by and I know these are nothing but memories but they still bring back the same old pain. The same old hurt. The one I know oh so well. Most people react the same way too emotional pain. There are those who react differently. Ranging from those who simply repress it or lash out in anger. Then the other end of the spectrum where you have your borderline personalities and Self-Mutilation. Since it is the day I figured I would try and see if I can get a page or two out of it all. As the memories are still fresh and the blood is almost still wet. So lets dig further.

Another cold day. Like so many other days except this one choose to rain today. The clouds had been puffed up for a few hours waiting for the moment to start. I remember standing there at the porch waiting for her to come home. Have been there for 20 minutes waiting silently like I have in the past. I know there is a chance she may stay late at work to get some overtime in. I know there is a good chance she may not arrive at all. In my own way though I know that I stand here as a testament of my love. The clouds gathered a bit more seeking the best angle to dump more water on me. I looked up and remember it hitting my glasses with little splatters then dripping off to run onto my face. As the time passed by the rain mixed in with my tears as I realize she was not coming home tonight. I realized that my standing here was useless. No one would know my feeling except me. The moments that I let pass by in the past have now taken their toll. To hide a secret so powerful for so long away from her. Keeping the knowledge within myself that I only want her in my life was slowly killing me. I knew it was the day to tell her but never took into account that she may never show. So I stood there looking like a fool soaked to the bone holding a simple rose. I felt a little sad for the rose. It would suffer the most. It had been bred and raised it's whole life to be given to someone in love. Now I had denied it even the simplest of things. It was to be a gift and I turned it into a piece of trash that would be thrown away once I got back home. Still I stood there waiting for her. How long was I going to wait I did not know. How much longer would I wait overall before I told her? That I also did not know. The days had passed me by yet providing no answers to my questions. The words we had shared late at night while cuddling warm cups of coffee were many. What in substance did we say though? What words did we say that mattered to the other? I could sit and talk to her for hours on end but yet to say even the simplest word and tell her my feelings. I doubt I could have even tried spelling it out in one of our many games of scrabble.

I the master in my own mind of controlling myself cannot give myself the simplest of commands. Still standing there as the clouds keep pouring on me. The puddle beneath me growing slowly. The rain from the sky mixing with the tears from my eyes. Another 5 minutes pass by and despair starts to set in. How long have I been standing here waiting? How long have I been living waiting for the moment? I reach into my coat to pull out my watch and stare at the second hand passes by. It has only been 54minutes that I have been waiting. I quickly stuff it back into my coat so it won’t get wet. A slow sigh and I lean back up against the wall. Stare up again at the clouds as the rain has stopped for a bit. A moments respite for my wet body. No respite for my heart though. A car comes up in the distance. The lights are turned on and it slows down as it approaches. It stops and she gets out. A walk that takes a few minutes in my mind. I try to remember every moment so I can recall this day in the future. She looks at me with a question but says nothing. At her door she pulls out her keys and opens it. A moment later she steps inside and calls out to me, 'Are you coming inside?' A quick breath as my hand goes out to the bush nearby. A quick flick of the wrist sends the rose into it. 'Yeah just admiring the weather' my response as I step inside the door. I hang up my coat and take a look at the rose lying there wasted on the ground. I know I do not need a rose to tell her my feelings. I need the courage to accept what she will say after I tell her. I need the strength to hold myself together if she does not care that much for me. I close the door and head up knowing a hot pot of coffee will await me. The verbal battles we will endure tonight and perhaps a game of chess. The friendship matters to me so much I can let the silence continue for a bit longer. I can allow the pain inside to keep hurting for the warmth of our friendship soothes it. As I get to her she gives me a quick hug and I hold her tight for a moment. All the things that I suffer for I know I suffer because of my choices. Just tonight is going to be another night and some other night I will let her in on my secret. Also giving myself a mental note to grab the rose on my way home so she will never know the struggle I am going through.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

At times it feels like the radio is against me. I turn it on while I drive and listen to it for a bit. Seeking a variety over my CD’s I store in the car. I get one song that pulls up a bad memory then another comes along. It keeps going and going until I am forced to put in a CD or turn it off completely. So I end up sitting at my desk at night wanting to type something intelligent but find myself lacking. It seems too often I am measured and found lacking. I should focus more on writing. Perhaps I will work on my penmanship and start writing on a notepad at work. I have no clue. Something needs to change for either the better or the worse. I really hope it is for the better.

Sunday, February 08, 2004

wrote a few thousand words for another blog i am doing for a DnD character. Will try to get some time in for this one. I am pondering maintaining three different blogs plus my page. So hopefully i did not bite off more than I can chew. For a small bit here is something I wrote as a outline for a movie idea. It came to me one night when I was visiting my parents. After thinking about it for a few minutes the rest of the story came to me in about 30minutes. A outline is just some steps with a short description of what happens. I plan on expounding on it in the future. Until then here it is.

1. Small town life. Big time rainstorm.
2. Small town home. Big city murder. - Dog barking then gets silent. Flash of lightning. Two second delay then gunshot during the roll of thunder.
3. Questions asked from the dark. - Man walks out of bar late at night. Into rainstorm. Gets confronted asked some questions then gets beaten.
4. Horrible wake up call. - Young man (Joel ) gets call from brother that his mother has been murdered. Also hears his father is in hospital after a attack.
5. Back to the town left behind a long time ago.
6. Police crime scene. The childhood home shattered.
7. Questions from the detective (Ben Ramsdale ). Many answers still missing.
8. Contacting some old friends. Seeking answers and comfort.
9. Late night visit to home. Bumping into the detective at midnight.
10. Breakfast with detective. Dad still up to old tricks.
11. Visit to the hospital. Father still not awake. Doctor gives bad news.
12. Old flame (Amanda) is now a nurse. Her husband (Scott) is part of the law enforcement.
13. Get ticket in hospital parking lot. Scott holding onto past anger.
14. Visiting lawyer to settle mom’s affairs. Family there for support.
15. Bad news from Amanda. Scott went in to talk to dad and during the questioning he had a heart attack. - Presses mute button on wireless phone and loses control for a moment.
16. Contacted lawyer to also add the affairs of father. Being strong for family.
17. Hooking up with a old friend (Stan). Still selling big time drugs in this small town. Offers help and some weight to protect oneself. Lets it be known Dad was a loyal friend and a customer.
18. A phone call to a big city friend ( Staci ). She knows guns and understands revenge.
19. Coffee shop confrontation. Scott says, It is his town and girl. Best leave before someone gets hurt. Detective Ramsdale intervenes and Scott leaves with less pride.
20. Phone call and meeting up with Staci. Middle of nowhere target practice. She brings toys for big boys. Offers advice that revenge is never a good dish to eat.
21. Call from Stan. Tip that Dad was playing in big league and stepped on some toes. Possible a clue could be at the crime scene. Late night house cleaning searching for clues. Find one and tires on car is slashed while inside the house.
22. Contacting Detective Ramsdale in the morning before breakfast with family members.
23. Afternoon service for two burials. Third visit from Scott. Claims to have known Dad somewhat. Said they worked together once.
24. Evening meeting out at park awake from city. Wandering the path through little woods to avoid being overheard. Showing detective some clues and motive of the murder. Clues point to a member of the police force.
25. Three cars parked where they should have been only two. Scott appears holding a gun on the detective. Says, He knows Ramsdale has been dirty and now has the proof.
26. A gunshot. Shock for a moment. Scott goes down. Stan the rescuer saving a friend.
27. Ramsdale pulls gun on Joel. Truth comes out. Dad was hiding some money and working with… gets interrupted by gunshots.
28. Ramsdale goes down Scott saves the person he hates. Says if he let anything happen to Joel, Amanda would never forgive him.
29. Scott fills in details Dad has turned informant as Scott was trying to find who was dirty in the department. He had another officer tailing Ramsdale for past few days. Also he was tailing Joel to make sure he would not get into trouble while he was here.
30. Best part of that town is leaving it. Driving off while pondering a conversation with Scott. He was always angry because he thought he would lose the only person he cared for to Joel. Joel telling Scott, She had to choose the better man. She choose you. Never forget that. Headlights on dark road away from a nightmare.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

People are always so nice on the phone. I call someone up and they always seem so cheerful. It is rare that I call someone and they not be cheerful or happy when they pickup the phone. Sometimes I wonder if the ringing of the phone sparks some chemical in your brain. Perhaps the idea that someone wants to talk to you makes someone happy and cheerful. The idea that out of all the millions of people in the world your phone was chosen because your special. Perhaps I just know cheerful people. The people who work on the phones all the time when they are at work are usually not so cheerful. So it would only apply to those who are receiving the call outside of their work environment. Perhaps I should study this more. I will call some people more often to find out their current state. I can picture it now.. *ring ring* Hello.... Hey are you happy... Um no dude stop calling me.. Perhaps that wont work.
Still pondering what to do with my blog now that I have one. I was pondering putting edits and stuff on my site in here. Pondering setting one up for my character in a DnD game. Heck may do one for each game. I could see it being a bit of fun.