Dreamer

She still dreams after she woke, 

Tight hold on that hope.  

Sometimes it can seem so cold, 

Do what you got to do to cope. 

This is life, we all strain
While we pray for dollars & we work for change
It's all the same, we all struggle
Sometimes you gotta say fuck you

Haven't written in a while.  This line struck me the other day with recent events that have passed in my life.  Thought it was really well said.  I think some of this realize this a little too late in life.  You have to do what you have to do for yourself sometimes, and I do not believe that is a selfish statement.  Without yourself, you have nothing.  I have been working on some new ideas lately, and I figured something out.  For the entire year of 2009, it was nothing but constant disaster.  Not one solitary moment of silence, unless that very silence was the very thing that was choking me.  Now 2010, it hasn't been the smooth sailing that I had hoped for, but it has been a wonderful year.  Sometimes a little turbulence can wake you up.  This year is (so far) exactly what I expected.  I am making up and correcting with constant compensation for last years constant disaster.  By late June 2010, my disasters will all be made up for, and I can start living again.  This is all a learning experience.  Once July 2010 hits, I will not be in Los Angeles again until mid-August.  I cannot wait to travel a portion of the world.  Just the thought of it is the ultimate high.  But I have come to a bigger conclusion just recently.  An epiphany, if you will.  In December of 2010, I will be 20 years old, and between the ages of 20 - 25, I am going to completely rip this world apart.  I will find my success.  I will find the place that I will begin to create my empire.  I am not sure which success will come first, but it is bound to happen one way or another.  I know it.  The way I see it, I better correct all these petty mistakes now before it is too late.  Before my life really takes off.  Because by then, it will either be too late, or I still won't be ready.  I know this is not the case though.  This is only the beginning.  Life is a challenge always, but finding comfort and stability within the challenge is a challenge in itself; a challenge that I am willing and ready to take.  I have already begun.  I am ready to change the world in the same way that it has changed me. 

Near...Far...

Where Ever You Are...

I Believe That The Heart Does Go On.

Work Cited: Celine Dion

December.

These are your good years, 
But don't take my advice...

You never wanted the nice boys anyway.  

And I'm of good cheer, 
Because I've been checking my list.  

The gifts you're receiving from me will be:

1. One Awkward Silence

2. Two hopes that you cry yourself to sleep staying up, 
waiting by the phone.  

All I want this year is for you to dedicate your last breath to me,
Before you bury yourself alive.

Don't come home for Christmas.  
You're the last thing I want to see underneath the tree.  

Merry Christmas, I could care less.  

Works Cited: Patrick Stump

Dr. Kline to the O.R.

All is fair in love and war... 

I can't seem to figure out what is more disappointing...the disparity of this phrase or the truth in it.  Maybe a combination of both.  I suppose the human heart in comparison with the human mind tends to react upon irrationality, but in my opinion, the reaction itself is quite rational.  IF all is truly fair in both love and war...than what options are irrational?  I guess the reality surfaces when we understand that not all things are symmetrical.  Nothing in life is truly balanced.  Though all is fair in love and war...love and war are simply not fair.  War is a sorry and bloody excuse to demand resolve and carry out decisions.  What happened to the day when we used to slap our children on the wrists and tell them to share?  Do none of us have mirrors in our homes?  Love on the flip side, is a sorry and bloody excuse to make two individuals happy.  It's funny how love seems to make two individuals miserable...sometimes more than two.  Sometimes love is it's own business of misery.

See Also: 
- Heart Disease
- Myocardio Infraction
- Cardiomyopathy, Etc.
Disease isn't the right word...
But it is the first word that comes to mind...


Though, with this phrase isn't all pessimism.  I understand the idea that love and war, though unfair, are essential.  Life cannot ever run in fairness when we are created as individuals.  Think about what you just read...re-read it.  If we thought about others as much as ourselves then this world would be bearable.  Problem is...in the midst of child birth, we all come with an out of order sticker.  We are all defective.  We were made with the ability to understand and comprehend...but the disability to always react upon them.  The same people that cry for disaster are the last ones who will benefit it.  I'm sorry humanity, but your tears are never enough.  They never will be.  But the saddest thing is, there is no warranty, refund, or return address.  We can't ship ourselves back.  We cannot re-create.  We cannot get reimbursed.  We can only try to slowly fix ourselves over time by hurting one another.  What a sad reality.  But this reality is why we are given something like love in the first place.  It is a chance to see that though we are unable to fulfill...we can be fulfilled.  Sacrifice and selflessness carries us.  It's funny how our natural instinct is to live for ourselves, when we can only survive by living for another.  We were most assuredly made defective, but at least a few of us are awarded intelligence to see this.  Happiness isn't an item, but a product.  By product, I mean result.  We can't own it or wait for it.  It's free at its own price.  But it too, is defective.

See Also: 
- Intercranial Disorder
- Cerebrovascular Hemorrhaging
- Neuroleptic Malignancy, Etc.
Deficiency isn't the right word...
But it is the first word that comes to mind...


Sometimes the god-complex inside myself tells me that I can do it.  That doesn't mean that I always can, but why would it mean I shouldn't try?  There are so many things inside of me that so many people don't know, and don't understand.  There are things that I have taken on that not many people have had to.  With all objectivity and negating any cliche, I am ready for operation.  My hands are washed and gloves are on.  This isn't my first procedure but why condemn the possibility that it may be my last?  My last patient ever.  That phrase clearly means they lived...because I will not stop until I am successful in one way or another.  I have to admit in all fairness that I have lost patients in the past, and the blood was on my hands, however I would not be lying to you when I say that I have saved, preserved, and loved.  Some of my finest work was with the deepest open heart operation I have ever performed, and I am proud to say that they were in one hell of a condition when they were admitted.  A bit overdue, a bit out of my league, but sufficient all the same.  My hospital is very particular with it's patients; I am the fucking House of it all, and believe me baby, my vision is X-Ray.  I can see straight through.  Fate has a way of guiding the paths of all people.   

See Also: ...
There are too many words that come to mind. 


Amnesia, denial, pride, sadness, motivation, self-worth, mis-communication...just stop.  This is like a Citizen Cope song playing in my head on repeat.  The TRUTH is...I am my own patient.  I am just as injured and hopeless as anyone else.  I have my share of unimaginable and unbearable.  No one sees the inside until you make an effort to LOOK.  Sometimes things seem too big for the fixing.  Sometimes things seem too overwhelming or impossible.  One message: Things always seem.  Places seem too far, but we still travel.  Items seem too expensive, but we still buy.  Happiness may seem impossible, but we still chase it.  Don't stop chasing it.  Don't let others stop you, and don't you dare let yourself stop you.  What is life without the chase?  Love and war both seem unfair.  I think we can agree that 'seem' is an understatement.  War is an unstoppable force of human kind.  Love is a plea for acceptance.  If we cannot stop war, let us at least give and seek love.  We are ALL insane.  We are all fucked up beyond repair.  We are all deficient.  We are all self made disasters.  But we are all our own doctors...as well as each others.  We all possess the power to re-create.  I may not have the words to say or the reasons why...but I have love.  I have patience.  I have acceptance and willingness to move forward.  One thing I do not have is my attention...it was stolen a long time ago.  What I see is not broken, damaged, or fucked up.  What I see is beyond beautiful. 

Just let me listen to your heartbeat.

Beautiful Morning.

Good morning Los Angeles.

Driving down the 118 freeway this morning and the sunrise was brilliant. I have decided that I am going to create another blog. This one being for my emotional depth and thoughts (as always) and the other will be for keeping up with things in the media that spark my interest, such as film, literature, music, people, etc. I am very excited to start it up. As far as this morning, I proceeded to make the most incredible breakfast ever. It makes me miss having a woman to bring breakfast to in the morning. Soon enough I suppose. Now I am off to the hospital. Hitting Santa Barbara party scene tonight, very excited. Anyways, this was my brief update on my life at this particular moment in time. Love you all <3

Cowgirl In The Sand

Hello cowgirl in the sand.

Is this place at your command?
Can I stay for a little while?
Can I see your sweet, sweet smile?
Hello ruby in the dust.
Has your band begun to rust?
After all the sin we've had
I thought we might turn back.
Hello woman of my dreams.
Is this not the way it seems?
Purple words on a gray background.
To be a woman, and to be turned down.
Old enough now to change your name...
When so many love you, is it the same?
It's the woman in you that makes you want to play this game.

Epitaph.

"Last week I had the strangest dream,
Where everything was exactly how it seemed"

Language is a prison. Words are a jail cell. Expression is so limited. Being an artist is a cry for help, trying to see and paint the world in such a way for people to understand when we can't even understand it for ourselves. We all fail in the worst way. Philosophy is putting depth into an environment that is deeper than our human minds are given ability to comprehend. Our minds fire stimuli and synapses to give us a calculated formula of reason and purpose, which give us conclusions and answers that are strictly based on opinion, when opinion itself is our lethal injection. Our calculated formulas and reasons for purpose amount to simple thoughts. Direction is misdirection, decision is obsolete. Being an artist is a cry for help, trying to see and paint ourselves in such a way for us to understand, the art of expression of self. We can't even understand ourselves. Were we ever meant to? A definition of description is to put an idea into different words for one to understand more clearly, when the idea is indescribable in the first place. Even the simplest of things. What is simplicity? Does the aspect even exist, or did we create it? A description of definition is to use words to give something meaning, when meaning itself is just a formulated calculation that appeared out of nothing. What even is nothing? Nothing can't be nothing...or we wouldn't be able to express it. So clearly nothing is just another something that we have just slapped a label on. Knowledge brings nothing but hopelessness. But living in a world with no understanding brings awe as well as confusion. We were never truly meant to understand...we aren't made to know. We are all wanderers. This body...these senses...they all fall short of truth. No matter how long you stare into an open field, you can only see so far. We can't comprehend what is beyond our own vision, and our imaginations cannot create any sense of truth for what is beyond our senses, so why do we even try to find anything? Do we even know what we are looking for? Half the time, do we even know that we are searching? The logical thing would be to give up...but would admitting defeat be as unsatisfying as searching for a lifetime and coming up with a question mark to put on an epitaph? Is satisfaction even a real event? Probably just another comforting defense mechanism that our brain specifically calculated and formulated to give us reason and purpose to something that is unexplainable. Words and language, is by far the greatest imprisonment that one can find. The only difference between Shakespeare and John Doe is having the ability to arrange art in such a way that is recognized. But recognition leaves us with just another thing to comprehend. Slowly, extending our confusion and failure. We wonder why the greatest artists commit suicide. Those souls, are probably the closest that have ever gotten to interpreting the infinite and indefinable concept of interpretation of infinite and indefinable concepts. We all fail outrageously. We all fall short. We are finitely impossible creatures. We are teased by sense. We haven't even come close to experiencing anything of substantial truth. This monologue itself is a simple admittance of defeat. in 20 years, I do not understand. If I live for another 1000, this would not change in the slightest. Rest In Peace, humanity, and God be with us all. That may be the only hope that we, as people, will ever experience in this unexplainable phenomenon we call life. It may be the closest we get to touching almighty. We're nothing more than fools and whores, and sad highs. But these are just words, aren't they? This is just a piece of my prison, that tonight I share with you.

My life sentence.

Sideways.

You know it ain't easy.

They keep knocking me sideways. I keep thinking in a moment that time will take them away, but these feelings won't go away. I'm telling you. Well, it's not like they have even been around for that long. I've hardly given them a chance to go away. I'm just prematurely scared. I know what this entails...& I don't know if I need it right now. There are no words to describe it. In French or in English. Diamonds fade...flowers bloom. Whatever. I know I shouldn't. My warning signs are appearing & caution tape in my head is already being unrolled. But...I'm just too intrigued. Just like last time. Will I ever learn? I guess I'm not supposed to learn from this mistake. I think learning from it would hurt me more. I actually don't see it as a mistake at all. How can it be? It's been knocking my sideways. I'm always just SLIGHTLY out of my league with everything aren't I? That's just the way that it always has to be...otherwise, it's not Nick Kline. I always have to be suffocating just BARELY. Enough to not kill me, but enough to destroy me. I am always just a little in over my head. So be it. But this...not again. But when I run the best/worst case scenarios through my mind, I am somehow eagerly willing to accept. I don't think I ever understand what I am getting into until it's barely too late. So I just run with it until I collapse, or until it collapses on me. I know I shouldn't. I know that this probably isn't a good idea. I know that this will probably be another thing to inspire me to write and provoke emotion. But maybe? Why do I live off of the maybes? Maybe one day I'll understand. There I go again with the maybe's. Whatever. I am standing on the edge of the cliff and I am staring at the water. I don't know if jumping will be a good thing, but I've already made my decision. My limbs just haven't moved yet because I'm scared. But once this is in motion, it can't be undone. Breathe. This is probably going to end sadly. But I thrive off of possibility. Try enough times, you'll eventually succeed. But the more that I think about it...I don't think this is a choice at all. I think you've pushed me over the edge of this cliff. You've provoked it from the beginning. So here we go. However I got here, mid-aerial, I am now falling. You pushed me...so you better catch me. This familiar confusion is starting to make me sick. Maybe it's the speed. Maybe I should stick to the facts. Fact is...I'm heading straight down. I am falling, & for the moment, somehow graceful...it is beautiful.

Split-Screen Sadness.

"I can't wait to find out what is wrong with me,
So I can say that this is the way that I used to be"

I heard this line today and it hit me so hard. I've heard it so many times, but seemed to have overlooked it until now. It's ironic that this single line seems to sum up every other day for me. My life lately has been a roller-coaster of one thing after another. It's hard t keep up sometimes...and it's hard to see things for what they actually are. Apparently, two wrongs make it all alright tonight. But I am starting to see through these things. I am starting to notice why we are all so damn confused. What's wrong to one may be right to another, and vice versa. Who are we to distinguish right and wrong? Who are we to live with sin if we can't even control the limits? I guess it's the chess game of life. I guess...we didn't create the rules for a reason. I feel like I am on the Niagara Falls of change right now. Like, I am at the very tip of the fall. I haven't fallen yet...but I am just looking over the edge. All I see in this moment is just fog and mist, I have not the slightest clue what lies below me...what my upcoming reality involves. I just pray that the rocks at the bottem aren't too sharp, and they don't tear me to bits. All I know, is that it's going to be gloriously different. Life has been at the same interesting pace for the last couple years, and I feel like the turn has finally come. April is going to be different. I feel like I am progressing, on a personal level...as a person. I feel like internal changes are going to create external changes. I can only hope for the best, I suppose. Thank God for new friends...I have met a couple. I am only hoping that a few of these new friendships actually last, because they are a special few. You know that feeling when you meet someone and you just think to yourself, "damn...I can't let this one get away...". Yeah, that.

I have been thinking a lot lately about her. That special girl. Whoever she may be...where ever she may be...she's out there. I know she is. And I know that she is thinking of me. I know that she looks to the stars like I do, and wonders the same thoughts. So I whisper to the sky...I'm here baby, don't worry. I've always been here, and always will be. Every mistake I make until I find you, was ONLY a detour that is leading me step by step closer to you. Every tear I cry now is only going to amount to a smile from you. I see my present tears as future cheers. I am already so in love with her. In a weird way, I feel like I can feel her. I feel like I can tell when she is sad, or when she is happy. I feel like I need to scream at the stars just to remind her...that I'm still out here...and I'm still searching. I check the weather all over the world, because I am curious if she can see the stars tonight. Just like the song, "Every single shooting star, makes me wonder where you are, and freezing in this midnight air, makes me wish that I was there" - Myself. It's the truest statement. But I feel that song "Astronomy & You" just doesn't do a justice. Nothing will do a justice. I am going to run into her someday...in some amazing way...and it may be a way that I least expect. Who knows? I may already know her. But whatever the situation may be...I pray that she knows that I am searching for her. My princess, I am coming. We share this sadness...Split Screen Sadness. But it won't be too long. Stay Strong. I will find you...if I have to search the world. I'll sleep in my coat forever. These words are your words. They are our words. They are your living memory until you arrive.

A Living Story

I am stuck between a rock and a very hard place. It's a lose - lose situation, so why don't I try to lose with a bang? Half of the time with this...I don't even know what I am thinking, so I can't judge others when they give their rash opinions, can I? Sometimes I am those rash opinions, but why do I constantly persist to defend what had once killed me? As if it somehow gives me strength now. I can't believe how such a mixture of emotions can all be so prominent at one time. I am a complete bundle of feeling, but no comprehension. When I try to make sense of it, I get more confused. My heart and my mind suffocate each other because they are polar opposites. I guess that's what makes me such an interesting person. I guess that's why I am a perfectionist, never satisfied...because I can't even agree with myself. My mind is telling my heart that I'm crazy. My heart is telling my mind that I am stubborn and arrogant. But somehow, I turn out to be an arrogant, stubborn crazy person. I mesh into one. Just like you.

Have you ever went through something and just had absolutely no words or thoughts or idea in the world how to express it? It's as if the event and the feeling itself was supernatural, and unworthy for the worlds possession, because there is simply no way to describe it. Something so unbelievable that if it were to be objectively explained, people would either not have a clue what you were talking about, or they would look at you like you are a alien. But regardless of how unexplainable...it still happened. However unimaginable, still occurred. I still can't wrap my head around it. How I can even stand it? The sight, sound and smell...the touch...so addicting but I fight. I fight myself so I have no problem fighting you. It's the same damn thing, isn't it? And all the little things seem to wrap back around at me. The little things should very well tear me apart, but they don't. It's like having surgery. I am completely numb. I feel nothing but the slight tugging discomfort. But I know that regardless of how I am feeling at the present moment, inside, I am being torn to shreds. I can handle this. The connection of how you can breakdown in one minute, and we'll be laughing the next is just unreal. I feel that it is too powerful for even us to understand. But this isn't my story. Not anymore. My story ended a while ago. This is a living story. This is a living story that isn't finished yet. A story that makes me feel like the last two years for me were a simple scratch & sponge-bob-band-aid. This is way beyond me. This is bigger than me, bigger than you, and bigger than all other players in this game. This is life-changing.

This story is bigger than life. And though the least likely, and in some instances the least motivated for this particular story, I am by far the most qualified and the most worthy to endure. I will write this story...and not for benefit of any man, but simply because the world needs to hear it. Though it is not my story to tell, but it is my duty as an artist to capture it. And though indefinitely painful and excruciatingly uncomfortable, it is beautiful. A beauty like this will not simply die out, at least, not by my hands. May God help us all.