Friday, August 28, 2009

Ahoy... a time lost in space and essence how do we refer to ourselves when we have to 'self-reflect'? I for one don't really care to have to agonize my way through such remedial tasks, but alas, there are things that are completely outta my control.

Self reflection...I mean seriously, what is it all about? Who is it for? Is it so you can learn yourself better? Or is it so someone who has no care in the world to learn more about you? I would think it's for the individual that is 'self-reflecting'. But doesn't that term on its own cause but a bit of a conundrum? I mean you can never see 'yourself' without the aid of something else..(i.e. whatever you're seeing you reflection in, either be it a person or mirror). It'll always be a biased observation anyhow. Are you gunna let everything out there to hang in the wind just so people can judge their lives according to yours and say, "Wow, and I thought my life was fucked?" Well, my answer is: No.

I tell you everything there is you need to know about me every time I draw breath. As I live I teach you, and myself, about me. You wanna know who I am? Spend time with me, see how I interact with others, see where my heart and responsibilities and social morae falls. I need nary a reflection to know who I am. A little of introspective work takes place in my life of course; but certainly I don't need it to be exploited to the general population. You wanna know how you get that information? Ya fuckin' prove yourself to me in a time and manner longer than 39.098706 seconds. Yeah, that's a pretty exact number, but hey, I'm a pretty exact man.

In my very recent past I had to provide a written executionary journal about my 'self-reflection'. Was I thrilled? Not exactly. Did I acquiesce and choke through the task? Yes, of course I did. However, that in itself is a better indicator as to who I am than whatever prose I scripted. Afterall, I held the power to script what I felt.. I could take my nom d' blum writing rights and provide anything that I felt that fit the bill. Did I take advantage of my position of power... well, kinda. However, I did come true with some things only to keep intact a degree of my integrity (and for any of those whom know me, you know that's rather high).

But, as for now I shall bid ye adieu from the bottom of my new self-reflective self, and bore ya not with anymore childish banter.



(Written Thursday, 21 December 2006)


Every adventure opens a new door. Every door opens a possible new adventure. Knowing when to close that door is the hardest part. The doors that we pass through in our lives are just as complicated as the meaning of life. Why is it we open the doors that we can feel are hot to the touch?

I remember when in grammar school we'd have firemen and policemen come to our schools and talk to us about being safe. Policemen would say, "Stay away from strangers and people you don't know well." Firemen would say, "If you touch the doorknob and it's hot don't open it, there's probably a potential for being burned on the other side of the door." Now, as an adult I've seem to have totally forgotten those words of advice. I grab the doorknob, I feel its warmth resinating through the metal. I feel that I am going to potentially get burnt. I open the door anyhow, much to my surprise I don't get burnt right from the start usually. But as the policemen said not to talk to strangers it seems like it's the strangers on the other side of the warm door that I talk to immediately.

The women on the other side of the door...Hot? Probably, otherwise the door wouldn't be warm to the touch. Strange? Well, again that's obvious because it's a new adventure behind another potentially fatal door. Every key factor about not opening that door stands evidently in my face. Do I open it? Of course I do, I open it to find another great woman that will eventually turn and burn me. They have it down so easily. Do I wear a sign that says, "Hey, I'm bored as hell, and you look bored, why don't you just swing on through my life and fuck it up for me real quick??" I don't think that I wear that sign. Perhaps I do.

My friends have coined a phrase for me. Does anyone remember that TV show called: This Ol' House? Well, it was a TV show about a dude (Bob Villa) that remodeled old homes for other people that couldn't see the good in them but they then were able to live in a home that was refurbished, fixed -up to the latest standards and off-the-hook. Well, like I said my friends have coined me a phrase, they call it: This Ol' Slut. They tell me I find broken, half-loved, damaged women that are not able to be loved correctly for whatever reason they have. Well, a few months together, perhaps even a year or two and they are fixed-up, looking good, have been built to today's modern standards and now are head-turners in public. Ol' dude that was too cool for school to pay her any attention now wants to hit the skins with my newly remodeled girl. And before you know it, there she is: full of herself and her new provided confidence, thinking life is good, she can risk these things now. So there you have it. She gives it up to ol' cat, and then perhaps leaves you, perhaps not. Either way she feels she's king-pin now. Fair enough. She does look beautiful, she is hot, you've done well with the transformation, you should be proud. But, you shouldn't allow for some dude to come and live in Your Ol' House/Slut.

The point to prose here is this: There are times in our life that we open doors that we know are not good for us. There are times when you think you've found the one. But one day, when you're sick with food poisoning and dying losing 6.5 lbs of water weight in one day, she won't be there for you. She will have had a week prior made a decision to leave you stranded somewhere and not let you know it. You'll fight for it, you know it's wrong, you know she doesn't care, you know it's only you being hurt because she could honestly give about 1/2 a fuck if you're alive or not. If she did care she'd be the one next to you when you can't keep anyhting down and dying. It wouldn't be her roommate and/or her friends offering you help and reassurance. It wouldn't be you, the one wondering if you're ever going to be able to eat again or keep any hydration down. It shouldn't be her being the one "having 'other things to do'" But it will be. And do you want to know why? Because that doorknob was hot in the begin with, the smoke was emminating from under the door, yet you felt it was a good idea and door to open. You felt it was the one sacrifice you could afford. 7 months and 3 countries and god knows how much money
later, you find yourself again hoping to find another doorknob; another avenue of approach. Maybe next time you'll grab the hot doorknob and instantly turn your cheek to it and find one that's not so damn offesively hot. But, unfortunately, I doubt it.


(Written Sunday, 27 May 07)